HOLY   ORDERS 


MARIE  CORELLI'S   ROMANCES 

A  ROMANCE  OF  Two  WORLDS 

VENDETTA 

THELMA 

ARDATH 

THE  SOUL  OF  LILITH 

WORMWOOD 

BARABBAS 

THE  SORROWS  OF  SATAN 

THE  MASTER-CHRISTIAN 

TEMPORAL  POWER 

GOD'S  GOOD  MAN 

Boy 

THE  MIGHTY  ATOM 

CAMEOS 

ZISKA 

THE  TREASURE  OF  HEAVEN 


The  Tragedy  of  a  Quiet  Life 


By 
MARIE  CORELLI 

Author  of 

"  The  Master  Christian,"  "  The  Sorrows  of  Satan,  " 

"Barabbas,"  "  Temporal  Power," 

"Ziska,""  Thelma,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1908,  BY 
MARIE    CORELLI 

^4//  rffto  reserved 
September,    igo8 


TO 
AMERICAN  READERS 

IN  presenting  to  Americans  this  story  of  a  phase  of  Eng- 
lish rural  life,  I  feel  that  perhaps  a  few  words  of  introduc- 
tion and  explanation  may  not  be  amiss.  We  have  now  in 
Great  Britain  a  number  of  resident  and  '  naturalized ' 
Americans,  who  to  a  certain  extent  have  fallen  easily  into 
English  ways,  but  I  trust  I  shall  not  be  mistaken  when  I 
say  that  very  few  of  them  have  yet  attained  to  a  sympa- 
thetic comprehension  of  what  I  may  call  the  '  inner  mind  '  of 
the  great  bulk  of  the  English  people.  Especially  do  they 
seem  to  remain  in  almost  willful  ignorance  of  the  rural 
populations, — the  real  England  of  country  towns  and  vil- 
lages. London  is  no  more  real  England  than  Paris  is  real 
France, — both  are  cosmopolitan  centers,  representing  not 
one  nation  but  many.  Really  to  understand  the  British 
race,  it  is  necessary  to  live  out  of  London,  in  which  Jews 
and  foreigners  are  more  in  evidence  than  the  native  born  in- 
habitant, for  if  we  were  to  judge  by  the  habits  and  modes  of 
London  society  only,  we  should  perhaps  have  to  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  everything  was  to  be  bought  for  sufficient 
money,  even  our  national  honor.  There  are  a  good  many 
Americans  who  are  of  this  opinion,  and  it  is  scarcely  to  be 
wondered  at,  considering  the  open  rush  on  American  mil- 
lionaires, male  and  female,  made  by  certain  of  our  aristocracy 
whose  names  in  the  long  long  ago  were  famous  for  being 
'  sans  peur  et  sans  reproche.'  But  this  section  of  our  *  upper ' 
classes  does  not  represent  the  actual  mind  of  the  British. 
That  mind  is  altogether  different  from  what  it  is  represented 


vi  AMERICAN    READERS 

to  be  by  the  latter-day  press  and  the  tone  of  '  decadent  * 
literature.  Americans  do  not  understand  it, — as  a  rule, 
they  are  too  busy  following  the  '  swim '  of  fashion  and 
frivolity,  to  even  try  to  understand  it.  Certainly  they  do 
not  appear  to  grasp  the  extent  of  the  evil  wrought  on  these 
rural  populations  by  the  tyranny  of  the  Drink-Traffic, — nor 
do  they  sympathize  very  openly  with  the  difficult  position 
in  which  some  of  the  best  and  most  hard-working  clergy 
are  placed,  in  their  honest  efforts  to  better  the  conditions  of 
poor  parishes  where  the  brewer  or  the  distiller  holds  such 
dominant  sway  as  to  be  practically  the  destroyer  of  the  health 
and  morals  of  the  whole  community. 

This  much  said,  I  will  leave  my  friend  in  '  Holy  Orders ' 
— '  Richard  Everton  ' — to  speak  for  himself,  only  adding 
a  word  or  two  on  my  account  which  is  purely  personal. 
For  years  I  have  been  the  subject  of  misrepresentation  in 
America  through  certain  sections  of  the  American  press 
which  are  supplied  by  *  London  Correspondents/  whose 
reliability,  judging  from  the  statements  they  have  set  forth, 
is  very  gravely  open  to  question.  Many  of  my  books,  such 
as  '  Barabbas,'  *  Temporal  Power,'  '  The  Sorrows  of  Satan,' 
and  '  The  Treasure  of  Heaven,'  have  been  so  erroneously 
dealt  with,  and  their  gist  and  meaning  so  distorted,  that  I 
have  myself  been  bewildered  enough  to  wonder  whether 
these  descendants  of  Ananias  were  describing  my  work  or 
somebody  else's,  for  I  have  not  been  able  to  recognize  my 
own  literary  efforts  in  any  of  the  descriptions  circulated. 
Notably  in  the  comments  on  '  Temporal  Power,'  which  I 
had  reason  to  think  would  particularly  appeal  to  a  great 
Republic  like  that  of  America,  the  nature  and  treatment  of 
the  book  were  so  grossly  falsified  that  to  myself  the  report 
of  it  was  unrecognizable.  May  I  venture,  therefore,  as 
one  who  has  many  American  friends  and  who  is  sincerely 
grateful  for  the  kindness  and  affection  these  friends  have 


AMERICAN   READERS  vii 

shown  me,  to  ask  that  '  London  Correspondents '  for  the 
newspapers  of  the  United  States  may  not  for  the  future  be 
looked  upon  as  combined  gospel  in  matters  concerning  my- 
self? If  it  is  remembered  that  I  am  unacquainted  with  Lon- 
don newspaper  men, — that  they  never  see  me,  or  I  them; 
and  that  we  live,  happily  enough,  some  hundred  or  so  of 
miles  away  from  each  other,  it  will  perhaps  be  easier  to  take 
me  on  trust  for  myself,  and  not  through  the  representations 
of  those  who  do  not  know  me,  and  who,  (though  they  essay 
to  describe  my  books)  never  read  a  line  I  write! 

MARIE  CORELLI. 

STRATFORD-ON-AVON, 
July,  1908. 


HOLY   ORDERS 


HOLY  ORDERS 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  A   QUIET  LIFE 

CHAPTER  I 

A  STORM  of  rain  was  sweeping  over  the  Cotswolds. 
•«*-The  clouds  drifted  along  the  sky  in  low  uneven 
masses, — breaking  asunder  now  and  then  to  show  fitful 
glimpses  of  blue  between  their  dividing  gloom, — the  hills 
looked  bare  and  wan,  and  their  ridges  were  blurred  like  the 
outline  of  a  picture  which  the  painter  has  smudged  in  haste 
and  carelessness.  Every  now  and  again  a  restless  wind  arose 
and  blew  the  tree-tops  drearily  to  and  fro, — the  landscape 
wore  a  dismal  expressionless  aspect,  and  as  the  clammy  wet 
mists  crept  over  the  field  and  common,  they  brought  with 
them  a  shuddering  chill  which  penetrated  coldly  to  the 
warmest  blood,  and  created  an  uncomfortable  sense  of  physi- 
cal and  mental  depression.  In  a  certain  small  village, — 
which,  to  save  all  contest  for  supremacy,  shall  not  here  be 
given  its  true  name,  but  shall  be  called  Shadbrook, — the  rain 
seemed  to  gather  special  force,  pouring  in  torrents  over  the 
irregularly  clustered  houses  and  trickling  down  from  their 
roofs  into  wide  puddles  of  mud  through  the  '  main  street,' 
as  it  was  called,  merely  because  the  Post-office,  a  combined 
business  of  small  groceries  and  the  country's  mails,  happened 
to  be  located  therein.  Shadbrook  was  in  some  respects  con- 
structed so  as  to  give  the  greatest  possible  inconvenience  to 
those  who  by  chance  or  fortune  found  themselves  constrained 
to  dwell  in  it.  There  were  two  portions  of  it, — one  ancient 
— the  other  modern.  The  ancient  part  was  composed  of 
small,  strongly-built  stone  houses,  many  of  them  rich  in  the 
possession  of  old  oak  rafters  and  stray  bits  of  fine  paneling 
left  here  and  there  where  the  dealer  in  antiquities  had  found 
it  impossible  to  remove  them  without  destroying  the  whole 
structure, — the  modern  was  one  of  those  '  model  villages ' 
which  well-meaning  landowners  go  to  the  pains  of  erecting 
at  great  cost  and  little  profit  for  their  often  ungrateful  ten- 


2  HOLY     ORDERS 

ants,  who  not  only  find  fault  with  the  houses,  but,  as  occu- 
pants, demur  at  paying  their  rents.  Between  the  two  there 
ran  a  brook  of  not  very  clear  water,  over  which  there  was  a 
picturesque  bridge  of  a  single  span,  which  was  traditionally 
reputed  to  have  been  built  by  the  Romans.  Looking  down 
from  this  bridge  into  the  stream,  one  saw  various  mute  ex- 
pressions of  the  interior  life  of  the  village — broken  china, 
empty  preserved-meat  tins,  old  kettles,  pots  and  pans  of 
every  description,  commingled  with  unsightly  portions  of 
decaying  vegetable  matter  which  were  not  altogether  odor- 
less. And  here  indeed,  though  the  passing  stranger  knew  it 
not,  was  the  center  of  a  great  faction, — the  core  of  an  in- 
ternal party  strife.  Year  in  and  year  out  it  was  a  matter  of 
dispute  as  to  which  inhabitants  of  the  village  on  either  side 
of  the  bridge  thus  turned  the  river  into  a  dusthole.  Was  it 
the  '  original '  or  the  '  model '  village  ?  No  one  could  tell — 
no  one  dared.  Many  had  been  the  protests  from  the  kindly 
landowner,  something  of  a  benefactor  in  his  way,  whose  man- 
sion and  deer-park  were  some  two  miles  distant, — urgent 
and  persuasive  had  been  the  requests  both  from  him  and  his 
wife,  a  great  lady  of  fashion,  that  their  tenants  should  try  to 
keep  the  rivulet  clean, — and  most  effusive  had  been  the 
promises  received  in  return.  But  no  real  change  was  ever 
effected.  Each  side  blamed  the  other.  The  people  in  the 
old  stone  houses  declared  they  never  did  see  such  '  mucky  ' 
folk  as  those  who  occupied  their  landlord's  '  model '  cottages 
• — while  the  dwellers  in  the  model  cottages  declared  that  their 
neighbors  of  the  '  stone  hut  period '  were  semi-barbarians, 
'  as  didn't  know  a  clean  thing  when  they  see'd  it.'  Only  on 
Sundays  was  a  kind  of  silent  truce  effected — for  there  was  but 
one  church — a  small  and  very  ancient  edifice,  once  the  chapel, 
so  legended,  of  a  holy  hermit  in  the  early  Christian  era  and 
carefully  preserved  by  the  monks  until  the  stormy  days  of  the 
Reformation,  when  it  was — like  all  the  churches  in  the  neigh- 
borhood— deprived  of  its  images  and  relics,  and  consider- 
ably disfigured,  though  not  destroyed.  Of  late  years  it  had 
been  carefully  restored  to  something  of  its  pristine  appear- 
ance, and  the  simple  services  of  the  Church  of  England  were 
faithfully  performed  in  it  Sunday  after  Sunday  by  the  resi- 
dent Vicar,  the  Reverend  Richard  Everton.  He  was  a  good 
and  kindly  man,  and  when  the  living  was  first  bestowed 


HOLY     ORDERS  3 

upon  him,  he  was  moved  to  a  sense  of  overpowering  and 
grateful  wonder  at  his  amazing  fortune.  He  had  been 
working  as  a  poor  curate  in  the  East  End  of  London,  and 
happened  by  chance  to  be  chosen  to  preach  a  sermon  on  a 
particular  occasion  for  some  great  cause  of  charity.  Among 
his  hearers  was  the  wealthy  patron  of  the  living  of  Shad- 
brook,  and  so  pleased  was  this  good  country  squire  with  the 
young  preacher's  eloquence,  that  he  sought  him  out  and 
made  his  personal  acquaintance — an  acquaintance  which  soon 
deepened  into  friendship — the  result  of  which  friendship  was 
his  present  position.  And  the  Reverend  Richard  thought  him- 
self a  more  than  lucky  man.  For  not  only  was  the  church 
of  Shadbrook  an  interesting  one  from  the  point  of  antiquity, 
— but  there  was  a  vicarage  attached  to  it,  which  was  quite  a 
beautiful  sixteenth-century  house — full  of  untouched  oak- 
paneling,  and  connected  by  poetic  tradition  with  the  love- 
story  of  a  lady  of  that  romantic  period  when  young  women 
were  supposed  to  die  straight  off  as  soon  as  lovers  betrayed 
their  trust,  even  as  lilies  die  when  deprived  of  water.  There 
were  leaning  gables  and  big  latticed  windows  and  quaint 
chimney-stacks  to  this  house, — and  a  garden  of  the  loveliest 
1  old-fashioned  '  type,  shut  in  from  the  outer  world  by  trees 
beneath  some  of  which  Sir  Philip  Sidney  might  have  com- 
posed a  sonnet.  And  so  when  Richard  Everton  first  took 
up  his  abode  in  this  charming  rural  retreat,  he  was  as  happy 
as  a  poet  is  when  inspired  with  a  fine  idea.  Life  seemed  to 
radiate  joy  upon  him,  inwardly  and  outwardly — for  he  was 
young.  And  on  the  faith  of  his  dreams  and  his  delight  and 
his  respite  from  all  financial  care,  he  did  what  most  men 
would  have  done  under  similar  circumstances — he  fell  in  love 
and  got  married. 

Mrs.  Everton  was  very  pretty.  She  was,  it  may  be  at  once 
stated,  much  too  pretty  for  a  clergyman's  wife.  She  was 
dainty,  mignonne,  golden-haired,  blue-eyed,  light-footed, 
merry, — -with  a  voice  like  a  lark's  and  a  smile  like  the  very 
sunshine — everything,  in  fact,  that  a  clergyman's  wife  ought 
net  to  be,  if  she  would  stand  in  a  '  respectable '  position  with 
county  society.  Her  quite  un-Christian  name,  too,  Azalea — • 
was  absurd  and  almost  '  stagey.'  Her  dress  was  always  ex- 
quisitely tasteful — though  not  extravagant — and  people  said 
— such  people  as  there  were  in  Shadbrook  to  say  anything — • 


4  HOLY    ORDERS 

that  they  '  wondered  how  she  could  do  it.'  She  was  a  daily 
joy  and  bewilderment  to  her  husband  during  the  first  year 
of  their  marriage.  Then  there  arrived  a  baby-boy — like,  yet 
unlike  her,  with  a  wise  angel  face,  and  a  noble  head  like 
that  of  the  infant  Hercules.  Where  he  came  from  neither 
of  his  parents  could  imagine.  The  Reverend  Richard  stared 
for  hours  at  his  offspring,  wondering  why  it  looked  so 
grandly  at  him.  For  he  himself  was  quite  a  plain,  ordinary 
sort  of  man — his  two  best  features  being  his  eyes  and  mouth 
— eyes  which  were  deeply  set  and  darkly  blue, — and  lips 
that  were  finely  sensitive  and  accustomed  to  gentle  lines  of 
speech  and  smile.  The  beauty  of  his  baby  son  confused  and 
oppressed  him.  He  was  troubled  by  it,  though  he  knew 
not  why.  His  wife  was  not  so  much  perplexed  as  delighted 
with  her  child — she  looked  like  a  little  girl  suddenly  pre- 
sented by  a  kind  friend  with  a  model  doll. 

After  the  birth  of  this  wondrous  boy,  the  family  in  Shad- 
brook  Vicarage  considered  itself  complete.  Everything 
smiled  upon  the  happy  trio.  The  house  was  lovely — the  gar- 
den delicious — the  air  good,  and  the  surrounding  landscape 
perfect.  At  the  time  this  '  ower  true  tale '  opens,  the  Vicar 
and  his  wife  had  enjoyed  their  enviable  condition  of  con- 
nubial bliss  for  three  years, — and  their  beautiful  son  was 
two  summers  old — just  at  what  is  called  the  '  interesting ' 
age.  And  it  was  at  this  very  juncture  that  a  kind  of  mys- 
terious change  came  over  the  spirit  of  the  dream — so  far  at 
least  as  the  Vicar  himself  was  concerned.  In  the  joy  of 
securing  Shadbrook  living,  and  the  greater  bliss  of  winning 
the  love  of  Azalea, — felicity  crowned  and  completed  by  the 
arrival  of  the  boy  with  the  fine  head  and  angelic  countenance, 
— the  Reverend  Richard  had  forgotten  altogether  one  trifling 
circumstance, — namely  that  he  was  a  clever  man.  That  is 
to  say,  a  man  gifted  above  the  ordinary,  with  a  wide  knowl- 
edge of  books,  a  keen  grasp  of  things  social  and  political,  and 
a  natural  bias  towards  the  graces  of  art  and  learning.  Amid 
the  smiles  of  his  wife  and  the  prattle  of  his  infant,  he  had  so 
obliterated  himself  that  he  had  completely  lost  sight  of  the 
fact  that  perhaps  there  might  be  wider  and  more  useful  fields 
of  labor  than  Shadbrook.  When  this  thought  first  came  to 
him  he  put  it  away  as  though  it  were  a  suggestion  from  the 
evil  one,  involving  some  deadly  sin — yet  every  now  and  then 


HOLY     ORDERS  5 

it  persistently  recurred  to  him  and  forced  itself  upon  his 
pained  attention.  He  was  ashamed  of  it,  and  angry  with 
himself  for  giving  way  to  what  he  called  a  '  weakness ' — but 
nevertheless  the  question  rang  in  his  ears  with  haunting  per- 
sistence— "  Are  you  going  to  spend  all  your  life  in  Shad- 
brook?" 

All  his  life!  He  was  only  thirty-five — and  probably — 
taking  all  the  chances  for  and  against,  there  were  several 
years  before  him.  Long  years  too — for  in  Shadbrook  the 
time  lagged  on  with  a  most  extraordinary  slowness.  Yet 
who  could  wish  for  a  more  peaceful  way  of  passing  the  days 
than  the  work  of  '  curing '  Shadbrook  souls  ?  There  was 
no  prettier  old  village  church  in  England  than  the  one  in 
which  it  was  his  duty  to  officiate,  and  as  for  his  personal  en- 
vironment, there  was  no  better  house  anywhere  than  his — 
no  lovelier  wife — no  more  beautiful  child.  What  more  then 
could  he  desire?  How  was  it  that  a  sudden  cloud — small 
yet  perfectly  perceptible — had  crept  into  his  sky? 

He  asked  himself  the  question  many  times — angrily  and 
with  a  keen  self-reproach.  But  he  kept  his  own  counsel  as  to 
his  inward  condition  of  mind — and  not  even  to  that  dazzling 
creature  of  sunshine  and  gossamer,  his  adored  Azalea,  whose 
bewildering  fairy  beauty  and  gayety  of  heart  were  a  perpetual 
amazement  to  his  mind,  did  he  confide  what  he  gravely 
decided  was  '  a  matter  between  himself  and  God.' 

On  this  day  of  dull  rain  and  sweeping  mist,  when  even 
the  Vicarage  garden  looked  dreary,  the  spring  not  having  yet 
made  up  its  mind  as  to  whether  or  no  it  meant  finally  to 
dethrone  a  long  and  obstinately  reigning  winter,  and  when 
Shadbrook  in  both  its  ancient  and  modern  parts  presented  its 
worst  and  most  forlorn  aspect,  there  was  something  more  than 
usually  depressing  in  the  atmosphere,  and  the  Reverend  Rich- 
ard felt  it  poignantly.  He  sat  in  his  study,  at  a  round  oak 
table  profusely  strewn  with  letters  and  papers,  holding  a  pen 
listlessly  in  his  hand,  and  trying  to  fix  his  mind  on  his  next 
Sunday's  sermon.  Opposite  to  him  the  spacious  latticed 
window  gave  him  an  open  view  of  his  garden — a  dream  of 
beauty  in  June  and  July, — but  just  now  fitting  itself  into  his 
particular  frame  of  mind  as  somewhat  like  a  well-kept  ceme- 
tery from  which  the  gravestones  and  memorial  monuments 
had  been  recently  removed.  Tall  dark  firs  and  evergreens 


6  HOLY     ORDERS 

waved  their  hearse-like  plumes  solemnly  to  and  fro  in  the 
driving  rain — the  lawns  were  sodden  and  marked  by  the 
muddy  trail  of  the  delving  worm — the  flower-borders  showed 
some  meekly  aspiring  little  spikes  of  green  indicative  of 
bulbs  waiting  to  grow  tall  if  the  sun  would  only  shine  upon 
them — and  a  few  withered  snowdrops  drooped  towards  the 
gravel  path  and  shivered  in  the  swish  of  the  wind.  Ever- 
ton's  deep-set,  thoughtful  eyes  observed  all  these  trifles  with  a 
kind  of  morbid  acuteness. 

"  Even  for  March," — he  said  .to  himself  gently,  as  though 
apologizing  for  the  remark — "  the  weather  is  trying!  " 

He  turned  his  pen  about  betwixt  ringer  and  thumb — but 
wrote  not  a  word  with  it.  A  terrible  conviction  was  forcing 
itself  upon  his  mind  that  there  was  nothing  to  write  about. 
It  was  a  dreadful  fact.  Nothing  to  write  about!  He,  a 
minister  of  the  Gospel, — with  the  Book  of  all  books  beside 
him — the  exhaustless  fount  of  spiritual  prophecy,  poesy  and 
power,  could  find  nothing  to  say  on  any  subject  in  it.  Every 
week  he  was  newly  confronted  by  this  amazing  difficulty. 
Yet  it  was  not  that  he  was  destitute  of  ideas — only — and 
here  was  the  stumbling-block — his  ideas  would  not  appeal 
to  the  intelligence  of  Shadbrook.  Were  he  to  express  him- 
self in  such  language  as  he  desired  to  use — were  he  to  give 
his  heart  and  soul  full  vent,  and  speak  with  the  passion  and 
enthusiasm  that  inwardly  consumed  his  being  as  with  a 
consuming  flame,  why  then,  his  parishioners — Well?  What 
of  his  parishioners?  Would  they  be  angry,  surprised,  or  in 
any  way  moved  to  unusual  emotion?  No — oh  no!  They 
simply  would  not  understand.  There  was  the  core  and  kernel 
of  his  trouble.  They-would-not-understand!  They  did  not 
understand  him  as  it  was,  even  when  he  preached  the  oldest 
and  most  worn-out  platitudes.  In  fact,  he  was  often  greatly 
concerned  as  to  whether  they  in  very  truth  comprehended  the 
Christian  doctrine  at  all.  He  sometimes  had  a  glimmering 
painful  sense  that  they  merely  accepted  it,  because  it  was  the 
particular  form  of  approach  to  the  Almighty  which  was  or- 
dained to  be  taught  according  to  the  laws  of  the  country — 
and  that  if  by  some  singular  chance  Buddhism  were  intro- 
duced in  its  stead  as  the  religion  of  the  realm,  they  would 
accept  that  with  equal  alacrity  and  equanimity.  He  had  often 
sounded  the  members  of  his  flock  on  the  question  of  their 


HOLY     ORDERS  7 

belief — because  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  do  so — but  the  answers 
he  had  received  were  for  the  most  part  vague  and  unsatisfac- 
tory. There  was  Farmer  Hobday,  for  example, — the  best 
farmer  anywhere  about  for  forty  miles — a  regular  church- 
goer, and  an  excellent  man  in  every  way — yet  no  one  could 
honestly  say  he  was  '  orthodox.'  Once  when  the  Reverend 
Richard  had  delicately  touched  on  a  certain  religious  matter, 
this  very  Hobday,  huge-boned,  red-faced  and  mighty  of 
stature,  had  turned  a  pair  of  round  expressionless  eyes  upon 
him,  and  with  a  slow  smile  had  observed: 

"  Now  doan't  'ee  do  it,  passon! — do-an't  'ee  do  it!  You 
minds  your  church  an'  I  minds  my  plow!  Neither  on  us 
knaws  'ow  the  A'mighty  manages  to  work  us  along  through 
a  powerful  lot  o'  trouble — yet  worked  we  are! — an'  if  we 
axes  no  questions,  we  woan't  be  told  no  lies !  " 

Then  there  was  Mrs.  Moddley — a  widow  with  eight 
young  children,  whose  husband  had  been  killed  while  work- 
ing on  the  railway  line  which  purposely  missed  Shadbroek 
altogether  on  its  way  to  Cheltenham.  She  too  was  a  regu- 
lar church-goer — and  when  Everton  was  preparing  some  of 
the  village  lads  for  confirmation,  one  of  her  boys  had  created 
confusion  in  the  class  by  suddenly  observing:  "Please,  sir, 
mother  says  she  don't  see  'ow  God  can  bear  to  live,  watchin' 
all  the  poor  folks  die  what  He's  made  Hisself !  " 

The  Vicar  had  for  the  time  managed  to  elude  this  star- 
tling proposition  by  skillful  handling  of  the  truism  that  we 
are  all  poor  sinful  souls  who  are  not  expected  to  comprehend 
the  ways  of  the  Almighty — but  he  took  an  early  opportunity 
of  interviewing  Mrs.  Moddley  on  the  subject  of  her  son's 
remark.  Mrs.  Moddley,  who  was  washing  her  children's 
clothes,  and  whose  arms,  half  in  and  half  out  of  a  tub  of 
soap-suds,  presented  a  boiled  lobster-like  appearance,  listened 
with  respectful  patience,  while  the  clergyman  quietly  and 
with  the  greatest  kindness,  pointed  out  that  the  thought  ex- 
pressed by  Master  Moddley — '  Jimmy  '  as  he  was  familiarly 
called — was  a  little — yes,  just  a  little  improper,  and  ought 
not  to  have  been  allowed  to  find  refuge  in  a  child's  brain. 

"Well!"  said  Mrs.  Moddley,  straightening  herself  up 
from  the  wash-tub  and  heaving  a  short  sharp  sigh — "  You 
may  be  right,  Mr.  Everton,  and  I  daresay  you  are,  for  it's 
not  my  place  to  argefy  with  my  betters,  an'  I've  never  done 


8  HOLY     ORDERS 

it  nohow — but  as  for  puttin'  thoughts  in  a  child's  brain,  if 
you'll  believe  me,  sir,  they  don't  want  no  puttin',  for  they 
comes  there  with  no  trouble  at  all — and  whatever  I've  said 
to  Jimmy  'tain't  'arf  as  bad  as  what  Jimmy  says  to  me — 
which  I  don't  put  into  his  'ed  nohow — an'  if  God  doos  every- 
thing, then  it's  God  as  is  to  blame,  beggin'  your  pardon,  Mr. 
Everton,  but  it's  the  truth  I  do  assure  you!  " 

Here  she  paused,  out  of  breath,  and  wrung  her  hands  free 
from  the  soap-suds.  Everton  looked  slightly  troubled. 

"  But  Mrs.  Moddley,"  he  argued — "  you  are  always  in 
church  on  Sundays — and  you  understand " 

"  No,  that  I  don't ! — and  that  I  should  never  wish  you,  sir, 
to  think  as  I  did," — she  declared,  with  energy — "  Nor  ever 
'ave  I  done  so  since  I  was  born  an'  eddicated.  But  I  takes 
it  as  it  comes,  feelin'  it's  all  for  the  best,  so  long  as  we  doos 
our  dooty  in  that  state  of  life  in  which  it  has  pleased  God  to 
call  us." " 

These  last  words  she  uttered  in  the  tone  of  a  stage  recita- 
tion. Then,  glancing  at  the  clergyman's  kindly,  clever  face, 
she  dusted  a  chair  and  offered  it  to  him. 

"  Sit  down,  sir," — she  said,  with  quite  a  motherly  air — 
"  you  looks  a  bit  worrited — but  I  do  make  so  bold  as  to  say 
there's  no  'arm  in  either  me  or  Jimmy  or  any  o'  my  lambs — 
they'se  only  just  curious  sort  o'  little  creatures,  wantin'  to 
know  the  why  an'  the  wherefore  of  everything — and  they 
gives  trouble  to  us  older  folk  without  meanin'  of  it.  But  they 
all  says  their  prayers  as  good  as  gold — and  my  youngest  girl, 
Betty,  she  prays  so  hard  that  she's  fair  wore  out  when  she's 
done,  an'  rolls  over  like  a  dumplin'  into  bed  after  the  Amen 
— -bless  her  'art! — she's  but  four  years  old — an'  all  her 
trouble  in  this  life  is  that  old  Mrs.  Kibble  will  never  get 
good  enough  to  be  an  angel!  Think  o'  that!  Old  Mrs. 
Kibble  that  'as  been  a  drunkard  for  these  many  years  an'  is 
gettin*  wusser  as  she  goes  on, — an'  my  Betty  wants  her  to 
be  an  angel!  Lord,  lord!  I've  laughed  till  I  cried  over 
that!" 

An  irrepressible  smile  crossed  Everton's  face.  A  picture 
of  Betty,  round,  pink  as  an  apple-blossom,  and  soft  as  a 
peach,  praying  till  she  was  '  wore  out '  for  '  crazy  Kibble  * 
as  the  irreverent  lads  of  the  village  called  the  ancient  female 
reprobate  in  question,  was  humorous  as  well  as  pathetic. 


HOLY     ORDERS  9 

And  surely  there  was  something  very  purely  Christian  in  the 
child's  feeling,  if  she  could  in  her  innocent  heart  implore 
the  Almighty  to  transform  an  old,  ugly,  dirty  confirmed 
drunkard,  who  was  a  disgrace  to  herself  and  her  neighbors, 
into  an  angel! 

"  Good  little  Betty!  "  he  said  gently— "  Still,  Mrs.  Mod- 
dley,  I  think  it  is  necessary  for  us  elders  to  impose  a  certain 
restraint  on  our  speech  in  the  presence  of  very  young  chil- 
dren— and  Jimmy's  remark  was  almost — I  will  not  say  quite 
— but  almost  on  the  verge  of  blasphemy.  And  it  appears 
he  only  repeated  what  you,  his  mother,  said.  Now  those 
words " 

"  Those  words  was  which  ?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Moddley. 

"  Well  just  to  this  effect,"  hesitated  Everton — "  That  you 
wondered  how  God  could  live  watching  all  the  poor  folks 
die  that  He  made  Himself." 

Mrs.  Moddley 's  eyes  twinkled  curiously. 

"  Well,  I  ain't  goin'  back  on  it," — she  said — "  It's  ezackly 
what  I  thinks — though  I'll  freely  own  my  tongue  often 
gets  the  better  of  me.  But  there,  Mr.  Everton,  take  me 
myself,  if  I  sees  a  fly  a-drownin'  in  the  milk  I  picks  it  out 
an'  gives  the  poor  know-nothin'  inseck  a  chance  for  its  life, 
though  flies  is  a  nuisance  in  the  summer-time  as  everybody 
knows,  but  seein'  God  made  'em  I  daresay  if  they  thinks  at 
all  they  wants  their  lives  as  much  as  we  do  ours.  And  though 
I'm  told  in  church  as  God  'ad  only  one  Son,  an'  killed  Him  in 
order  to  wash  out  our  sins  in  the  blood,  I  can't  never  believe 
'twas  meant  that  way " 

"  Mrs.  Moddley !  "  gasped  Richard — "  You — you — ex- 
cuse me — you  don't  know  what  a  terrible  thing  you  are 
saying " 

"  Look  'ere,  Mr.  Everton,"  and  Mrs.  Moddley  leaned  her 
wet  arms  argumentatively  across  the  wash-tub — "  I  ain't 
goin'  to  b'lieve  for  a  moment  that  the  Almighty  is  a  worser 
person  than  ourselves.  Not  a  bit  of  it!  Now  I  wouldn't 
kill  a  son  of  mine  to  save  anybody — there!  An'  I'm  only 
Martha  Moddley.  An'  our  wretched  little  sins,  sich  as  they 
is,  all  comes  through  our  not  knowin'  better — wherefore  I 
says,  the  blessed  Lord  Jesus  came  down  from  heaven  to  show 
us  how  to  live  patient  and  die  quiet  without  complainin', 
an'  trust  to  the  Father  of  us  all  to  do  right  by  us  in  this 


io  HOLY     ORDERS 

world,  seein'  we've  been  brought  'ere  without  our  own  wish, 
an'  got  to  suffer  a  deal  o'  woe.  That's  my  view  of  religion 
— an'  a  bad  one  no  doubt  it  is — but  Lord  love  ye,  Mr.  Ever- 
ton !  " — and  here  her  round  face  beamed  smilingly  at  him — 
"  Don't  ye  worrit  over  me  one  bit ! — you'll  never  see  me 
miss  a  Sunday  out  of  church,  for  the  singin'  an'  the  prayers' 
doos  us  all  good,  even  if  we  can't  make  it  all  out — and  you're 
a  real  gentleman  born,  which  is  what  we  allus  wanted  for 
this  parish,  'avin'  'ad  a  man  previous  what  lived  with  his 
cook, — quite  a  fine  gel — on  the  sly,  an'  all  of  us  knowed  it 
an'  couldn't  say  nothin'.  For  says  my  pore  dear  'usband 
as  is  gone, — '  We  must  ketch  'im  in  the  hact ' — an'  that  you 
will  realize,  Mr.  Everton,  was  impossible — so  that  when  he 
died  of  a  'plexy  fit,  'twas  a  good  riddance  for  all  round. 
An'  I'm  sure  we  couldn't  wish  for  a  better  parson  an'  wife 
than  you  an'  your  lady — so  now,  sir," — and  she  nodded  con- 
solingly at  him — "  you've  no  need  to  worrit,  as  I  says,  for 
you  doos  your  dooty,  an'  to  the  best  o'  my  powers  I'll  do 
mine,  an'  I'll  bite  my  tongue  'ard  before  I  let  it  talk  over 
Jimmy's  'ed  'bout  what  he's  a  bit  too  young  to  see  for  his- 
self  proper." 

With  this  most  uncertain  and  entirely  unprofitable  ex- 
planation, Everton  had  to  be  content — and  never  afterwards 
saw  Mrs.  Moddley  in  church  without  a  nervous  qualm.  He 
began  to  be  afraid  of  getting  on  religious  subjects  with  his 
parishioners  at  all,  and  found  that  it  was  safer  to  utter 
vague  prognostications  about  the  weather  and  the  crops  than 
to  mention  the  doctrines  of  original  sin  and  divine  redemp- 
tion. Pigs  furnished  a  more  appreciated  subject  of  dis- 
course,— the  birth,  growth  and  fattening  of  these  interesting 
animals  being  more  important  to  the  inhabitants  of  Shad- 
brook  than  any  other  event  which  an  industrious  press  might 
chronicle  in  any  part  of  the  world.  There  was  no  one,  in 
fact,  to  whom  he  could  impart  the  growing  sense  he  had  of 
his  own  incompetency  to  deal  with  this  rough  human  mate- 
rial, which  though  undoubtedly  endowed  with  the  'spirit 
which  maketh  for  righteousness,'  yet  had  no  means  of  mani- 
festing its  real  trend  of  thought.  He  was  a  scholarly  man — 
and  he  had  no  other  of  his  class  with  whom  to  exchange 
ideas.  True,  there  were  two  '  great '  houses,  so-called, — the 
one  of  his  patron,  Squire  Hazlitt,  who  had  selected  him  for 


HOLY     ORDERS  n 

the  living  of  Shadbrook,  and  who  was  hardly  ever  in  the 
place,  his  wife  and  daughters  preferring  to  drag  him  about 
in  the  wake  of  mischievous  modern  society,  which  elects 
to  spend  its  money  on  foreign  resorts  rather  than  to  help 
forward  the  equally  beautiful  and  much  more  healthy  pleas- 
ure places  at  home — the  other  the  '  commodious  villa,'  to  use 
auctioneer  parlance,  of  the  brewer  of  the  district,  whose 
hideous  brewery-buildings  disfigured  the  landscape  some  eight 
or  ten  miles  away.  With  the  Squire,  Everton  and  his  pretty 
wife  were  on  terms  of  pleasure  and  intimacy  whenever  that 
gentleman  was  at  home;  with  the  brewer,  he  was  at  open 
feud.  For  Shadbrook  had  two  public-houses — a  criminal 
superfluity  for  so  small  a  place, — and  both  were  '  tied  '  to 
Messrs.  Minchin  and  Co.,  who  kept  them  well  supplied 
with  the  direst  poison  in  the  shape  of  beer  that  ever  went 
down  the  throats  of  poor  laboring  men.  Minchin  himself 
was  a  pompous,  self-satisfied  commoner  who  had  allied  him- 
self for  his  own  advantage  to  the  daughter  of  a  pauper 
baronet,  in  order  that  he  might  claim  to  be  '  connected  with 
the  aristocracy.'  He  was  a  persistent  church-goer,  and  a 
publicly  proclaimed  teetotaler.  That  is  to  say,  he  drank 
nothing  but  water,  and  gave  his  friends  nothing  but  water, 
while  he  made  his  money  out  of  the  working-man's  drunken- 
ness, or  rather  let  us  say  the  working-man's  delirium,  brought 
on  by  the  consumption  of  his  manufactured  poison.  With 
such  characteristics  as  these,  every  one  will  admit  that  he  was 
a  good  and  righteous  man.  But  he  hated  the  Reverend  Rich- 
ard Everton, — and  the  Reverend  Richard  Everton,  so  far  as 
it  was  possible  for  a  Christian  minister  with  human  blood 
in  his  veins  to  hate,  hated  him  in  return.  Mrs.  Minchin,  a 
somewhat  '  horsey '  lady,  with  a  strident  voice  and  an  ag- 
gressive manner,  '  detested,'  to  use  her  own  expression,  '  that 
odious  little  woman,  Azalea  Everton.'  It  was  a  case  of 
simple  cause  and  effect — Mrs.  Everton  being  pretty  and  Mrs. 
Minchin  plain, — Mrs.  Everton  being  the  mother  of  a  boy 
whose  beauty  was  the  wonder  of  all  who  beheld  him,  and 
Mrs.  Minchin  having  produced  alarmingly  ugly  twins,  boy 
and  girl,  who  might  for  all  the  good  temper  and  intelligence 
they  showed,  just  as  well  have  never  been  born.  These,  and 
other  equally  cogent  reasons,  kept  the  two  families  well 
apart.  Mrs.  Everton,  indeed,  though  as  a  rule  the  sweetest 


12  HOLY     ORDERS 

of  sweet  creatures,  could  not  altogether  refrain  from  giving 
her  pretty  head  a  slight,  very  slight,  toss  of  indifference, 
when  she  happened  to  pass  Mrs.  Minchin  on  the  country 
road — and  Mrs.  Minchin  made  no  attempt  to  restrain  the 
very  unmusical  snort  which  affected  her  nose  and  throat 
at  the  merest  side  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Everton.  Such  being  the 
position  of  things,  it  followed  that  there  were  no  real  '  neigh- 
bors '  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  for  a  man  of  learning 
and  refinement  such  as  the  Vicar  was,  for  even  Squire  Haz- 
litt,  his  patron,  was  scarcely  to  be  called  cultured,  though 
he  had  plenty  of  good-humor  and  shrewd  common-sense. 
Yet  the  years  of  his  life  at  Shadbrook  had  so  far  been  spent 
in  such  happiness  that  he  had  never  thought  it  possible 
or  likely  that  he  might,  with  a  growing,  broadening  mind, 
some  day  need  a  growing  and  broadening  environment.  That 
afflictive  cramp  which  nips  the  intellectual  spirit  when  it 
finds  itself  hemmed  in  on  all  sides  by  provincial  nonentities, 
had  not  as  yet  seriously  troubled  him — and  its  first  twinges 
were  only  now  beginning  to  pinch  him  in  a  warning,  and 
not  to  say  undesirable  and  undesired  manner. 

"  Are  you  going  to  pass  all  your  life  in  Shadbrook?  " 
The  question,  put  as  it  were  by  the  mocking  voice  of  some 
interior  demon,  was  asked  of  him  again  on  this  cold  March 
morning  when  he  sat  trying  to  write  what  he  felt  could 
never  be  written.  And  yet — what  burning  thoughts  were  in 
his  brain,  longing  to  communicate  themselves  to  his  motion- 
less pen! — thoughts  of  the  goodness  and  majesty  of  the 
Creator — thoughts  of  the  daily  discoveries  of  science — 
thoughts  of  the  inexhaustible  millions  upon  millions  of  solar 
systems  in  limitless  space — thoughts  that  were  like  lightning- 
poems,  singing  themselves  to  his  inner  consciousness  and  de- 
claring him  to  be  a  living  Soul — a  part  of  God — a  spark  of 
the  Divine,  sent  to  evolve  itself  through  experience  and  diffi- 
culty from  the  imperfect  to  the  perfect  state  of  being. 
The  daily  papers  brought  him  news  of  the  world's  unrest 
— and  realizing  the  paltry  '  sensationalism  of  religion ' 
worked  up  by  certain  followers  of  antichrist,  who  saw  no 
shame  in  associating  themselves  with  the  notoriety-hunting 
proprietors  of  a  cheap  and  degraded  press,  he  recognized  the 
wrong  that  was  being  done  to  the  pure  teaching  of  Christ, 
and  the  havoc  that  was  wickedly  wrought  among  men  by  the 


HOLY     ORDERS  13 

spread  of  infidel  doctrine.  He  longed  to  be  up  and  doing 
— to  don  the  spiritual  sword  and  buckler,  and  go  forth  with 
the  armies  of  the  Lord — to  preach  with  no  uncertain  voice, 
but  with  a  true  note,  clear  as  a  clarion  call,  and  to  help  draw 
back  the  social  world  from  the  abyss  whither  he,  and  all 
deep-thinking  men  could  see  it  visibly  hurrying — and  yet — 
his  '  cure '  was  merely  Shadbrook.  Shadbrook  was  his  busi- 
ness; with  the  rest  of  the  world  he  had  no  need  to  concern 
himself. 

The  wind  continued  to  howl  and  sigh,  and  he  continued 
to  sit  in  apparent  idleness,  twisting  his  pen  in  his  fingers, 
and  wondering — wondering — not  what  he  should  preach 
next  Sunday,  but  rather  what  he  should  do  with  his  life. 
He  could  only  live  once — at  any  rate  on  this  planet — and 
must  he  make  of  that  '  once ' — nothing  but  Shadbrook? 

J'Yet  why  not?"  he  argued  to  himself — "The  people 
here  need  to  be  drawn  to  God — need  to  be  taught  and 
helped — just  as  much  as  the  millions  out  in  the  wider  world. 
Sometimes — yes! — sometimes  I  feel  that  they — in  their  sim- 
ple way  of  accepting  without  question  a  faith  which  they 
really  do  not  understand — are  nearer  the  truth  than  I  am. 
And  yet  again — I  cannot  but  feel  sure  that  the  Creator 
meant  us  to  use  all  our  faculties  in  the  comprehension  of  His 
sublime  intentions  towards  us — and  that  a  merely  blind  un- 
reasoning submission  is  more  of  an  affront  to  Him  than  a 
service." 

At  this  juncture  the  door  of  his  study  was  gently  pushed 
open,  and  a  lovely  face  peered  in  at  him. 

"  Are  you  very  busy,  Dick?  "  asked  a  coaxing  voice,  sweet 
as  honey — "  Or  may  I  come  in  just  one  minute?  " 

He  threw  down  his  pen  and  sprang  up  from  his  chair 
with  a  quick  sigh  of  relief. 

"  One  minute  isn't  long  enough !  "  he  declared,  going  to 
meet  his  wife  as  she  entered,  and  taking  her  in  his  arms — 
"  Come  and  stay  half  an  hour !  I  want  you,  Azalea — I  want 
you  badly !  "  Here  he  looked  down  into  her  tender  eyes. 
"  I  want  a  kiss,  too," — and  he  suited  the  action  to  the  word 
— "  I've  had  a  touch  of  the  blues." 

"  Oh,  poor  boy !  "  And  Azalea  put  up  a  little  white  hand 
and  stroked  his  cheek  caressingly — "  You  mustn't !  It's  the 
weather — I'm  sure  it's  the  weather.  And  it's  all  horrid — 


14  HOLY     ORDERS 

but,  Dick,  you'll  have  to  go  out  in  the  rain,  I'm  afraid! 
There's  been  a  very  bad  fight  in  the  village — and  that  dread- 
ful man,  Kiernan,  has  nearly  killed  his  wife!  Isn't  it 
awful?" 

She  smiled  angelically,  and  her  eyes  twinkled  with  a  kind 
of  sparkle — whether  of  tears  or  laughter,  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  say. 

He  loosened  her  from  his  clasp,  and  his  face  grew  pale 
and  stern. 

"  Kiernan  again!  "  he  said — "  I  must  go  at  once,  Azalea. 
He  is  a  dangerous  customer." 

She  looked  at  him  questioningly,  as  he  hastily  swept  his 
letters  and  papers  together. 

"  Were  you  writing  your  sermon,  darling?  "  she  inquired. 

"  No — that  is,  I  was  trying  to  think  about  it — but  really, 
I'm  afraid  my  brain  isn't  as  clear  as  it  might  be.  I  am  not 
quite  sure  what  I  ought  to  say  sometimes — and  I  feel  anxious 
about  it, — almost  as  if  I  were  not  altogether  doing  my 
duty." 

"  Oh,  Dick !  "  And  Azalea  looked  reproachfully  amazed 
— "  How  can  you  say  such  a  thing !  Your  sermons  are  sim- 
ply bee-autiful !  Perfectly  lovely!  You  know  they  are !" 

He  took  her  pretty  face  between  his  two  hands  and  kissed 
it  again. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  sort,  little  wife! "  he  said — "  I 
feel  myself  to  be  dull  and  heavy.  And  helpless,  too,  Azalea ! 
— that's  the  worst  of  it — helpless,  for  I  cannot  keep  even 
Kiernan  from  the  public-house." 

With  this,  he  hurriedly  left  his  study  and  went  out  into 
the  hall.  His  wife  followed  him,  and  watched  him  rather 
wistfully  as  he  put  on  his  thickest  great-coat,  and  looked 
about  for  his  umbrella. 

"  After  all,  Dick,"  she  said — "  how  can  you  keep  people 
from  the  public-house  as  long  as  Minchin  has  that  '  beer 
club '  where  everybody  who  takes  a  ticket  gets  a  big  barrel 
of  beer  at  Christmas  all  to  themselves?  It's  too  much  to 
ask  of  a  clergyman  that  he  should  be  answerable  for  temper- 
ance as  well  as  religion." 

"  Azalea,  my  dear,  religion  and  temperance  ought  to  go 
together — and  there's  no  getting  over  the  fact.  When  men 
are  drunkards,  they  have  not  understood  the  meaning  of 


HOLY     ORDERS  15 

religion,  or  else  religion  has  not  appealed  to  them  in  the  way 
it  should  do.  The  very  Hindoo  scorns  to  soil  himself  with  so 
degrading  a  vice  as  drunkenness." 

"  The  Hindoo  is  perhaps  not  under  the  dominance  of  the 
brewer,"  murmured  Azalea. 

"  Dominance?  My  dear  child,  no  reasonable  man  should 
allow  himself  to  be  '  dominated  '  by  anything  or  any  one. 
It's  a  sign  of  weakness.  And  of  course  a  drunkard  is  weak, 
morally  and  physically — only  what  I  mean  is,  that  religion 
— the  religion  of  Christ — should  be  able  to  impress  and  con- 
trol the  weak  as  well  as  the  strong.  Now  I'm  off.  Don't 
wait  luncheon — I  may  be  detained." 

He  pressed  his  hat  well  down  over  his  brows  as  he  opened 
the  street  door  and  faced  the  bitter  driving  wind. 

"  Don't  stand  in  the  draught,  Azalea," — he  called — 
"  You'll  catch  cold.  Good-bye." 

"'Good-bye!  Come  back  as  quickly  as  you  can,"  she  re- 
sponded. And  shutting  the  door  after  him  with  a  little  bang, 
she  re-entered  the  house  and  began  to  sing  softly  to  herself 
as  she  flitted  here  and  there,  giving  graceful  touches  of  her 
own  to  the  various  ornaments  about  the  pretty  drawing-room, 
— rearranging  the  flowers,  which  were  scarce  at  this  season 
and  had  to  be  cared  for  tenderly, — and  generally  amusing 
herself  in  her  own  way  before  going  up  to  the  nursery  to 
superintend  the  dinner  of  the  ever  interesting  baby,  who  was 
now  promoted  to  the  dignity  of  being  called  by  his  nurse, 
'  Master  Laurence.'  Master  Laurence  was  so  named  after 
Azalea's  'father,  who  had  been  in  his  time  a  noted  literary 
man,  but  who,  worn  out  by  the  patient  evolvement  of  great 
teachings  for  the  benefit  of  an  ungrateful  and  forgetful 
world,  had  died,  more  of  sheer  tiredness  than  anything  else, 
some  two  years  before  his  daughter's  marriage.  Azalea  had 
never  understood  him  in  the  least,  but  in  her  pretty  caress- 
ing way  she  had  loved  him,  while  his  fond  admiration  of  her 
had  amounted  almost  to  idolatry.  When  she  laughed  per- 
plexedly over  the  learned  books  he  wrote,  he  was  more 
delighted  than  if  he  had  received  a  column  of  carping  praise 
from  the  most  prominent  growler  in  all  the  critical  world. 
Sometimes  his  poor  heart  ached  a  little,  as  he  realized  that 
all  his  best  work  must  forever  remain  a  sealed  book  to  this, 
his  only  child,  who  in  her  easy  lightness  of  mind  and  disposi- 


H6  HOLY     ORDERS 

tion  could  not  comprehend  why  any  one  should  ever  think 
about  anything. 

"  It's  so  stupid !  "  she  would  say,  with  a  charming  pout, — 
"All  the  thinking  in  the  world  does  no  good!  Such  crowds 
of  wise  men  have  lived  and  written  all  sorts  of  books — and 
nobody  seems  a  bit  the  better !  " 

However,  when  poor  Laurence  died,  his  daughter  was  as 
sorry  as  she  was  frightened.  Her  mother  had  passed  to  the 
better  world  when  she  was  barely  six  months  old, — so  that 
this  was  her  first  conscious  experience  of  the  grim  visitation 
of  the  King  of  Terrors.  She  hated  it, — she  recoiled  with 
shuddering  fear  from  the  quiet  grandeur  of  her  father's 
form,  composed  rigidly  into  that  slumber  from  which  there 
is  no  more  waking  in  this  world, — she  shivered  and  cried  at 
the  solemn  black  paraphernalia  of  the  funeral — and  looked 
like  a  poor  weak  little  snowdrop  in  her  heavy  mourning 
gown.  It  was  while  she  was  yet  in  the  snowdrop  state  that 
Richard  Everton  first  met  her  at  the  house  of  a  mutual  friend 
where  she  had  been  invited  to  stay  for  change  and  solace 
after  her  bereavement, — and  she  had  comforted  herself  with 
his  love,  just  as  a  small  kitten  might  comfort  itself  in 
the  arms  of  a  kind  protector.  It  was  delightful  to  find 
another  man  ready  to  pet  and  make  much  of  her  as  her  late 
father  had  done, — it  was  all  she  wanted  in  life, — and  of  the 
graver  duties  and  responsibilities  of  marriage  she  took  no 
thought.  Richard  was  kind  and  nice  and  not  bad-looking, 
— Richard  had  just  got  a  '  living ' — and  what  was  best  of 
all,  Richard  was  '  perfectly  devoted ' — this  was  her  own 
expression — perfectly  devoted  to  her.  And  gradually  the 
effect  of  her  father's  death  wore  off — she  forgot  him  more 
and  more  completely — till,  when  her  baby  was  born,  a 
sudden  rush  of  tender  recollection  flowed  in  upon  her  mind, 
and  she  said,  with  tears  sparkling  in  her  pretty  eyes: — 

"  We  must  call  him  Laurence !  Oh  yes,  Dick !  We 
must  call  him  Laurence,  after  poor  dear  old  Dad ! " 

Her  adoring  husband  made  no  objection, — if  it  had  been 
her  wish  to  christen  the  child  Zedekiah,  it  is  probable 
that  in  his  doting  condition  of  mind  he  would  have  con- 
sented. The  name  of  '  Laurence,'  however,  seemed  to  suit 
the  boy  with  the  serious  eyes  and  expression  of  angel  intel- 
lectuality;— and  sometimes  Everton,  who  had  read  many 


HOLY     ORDERS  17 

of  the  books  written  by  the  dead  Thinker  whose  work  his 
daughter  had  laughed  at,  wondered  whether  his  spirit  had 
become  reincarnated  in  his  infant  namesake,  who  already 
looked  so  wise  beyond  all  earthly  years.  Moved  by  this 
thought,  he  one  day  expressed  it  to  his  wife,  albeit  remotely. 

"  I  do  believe,  Azalea,  that  our  Laurence  will  be  as  clever 
a  man  as  your  father  was." 

She  uttered  a  little  cry  of  alarm. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not ! "  she  said,  with  delightful  earnestness 
— "  It's  so  dreadful  to  be  clever,  Dick !  You  don't  know 
how  dreadful  it  is!  Nobody  likes  you!  " 

He  smiled. 

"  You  quaint  wee  woman !  Do  you  want  the  boy  to  be 
a  fool,  then  ?  " 

"  He  couldn't  be  a  fool !  "  declared  Azalea  warmly — "  Of 
course  he  couldn't.  But  I  hope  he  won't  be  clever!  If  you 
had  known  poor  Dad,  you  would  understand  what  I  mean. 
A  clever  man  is  really  a  pitiable  object! — he  is,  Dick! — 
perfectly  pitiable !  He  always  wants  what  he  cannot  get — and 
he  sees  everything  going  wrong  and  he  wants  to  put  it  right, 
and  of  course  he  cant  put  it  right, — not  in  his  way,  because 
everybody  wants  to  do  it  another  way — and  oh! — it's  just 
awful!  And  he  writes  and  writes,  and  lectures  and  lec- 
tures, and  gets  dyspepsia  and  headaches  and  gout,  and  dread- 
ful things — and  never  enjoys  himself  one  'bit — how  can 
he—?" 

Richard  laughed  aloud. 

"  My  dear  little  wife,  you're  talking  at  random !  "  he  said 
indulgently — "  You  don't  understand  the  inward  joys  of  a 
man  who  has  mind  and  soul  and  imagination " 

"  Oh,  don't!  "  and  Azalea  covered  her  shell-pink  ears  with 
her  pretty  white  hands — •"  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything 
about  mind  and  soul  or  imagination!  I  want  baby  to  be 
just— Baby!" 

And  so  it  was  decreed.  Baby — at  least  for  the  present — 
remained  Baby — and  it  was  only  Nurse  Tompkins  who  called 
him  '  Master  Laurence.'  Nurse  Tomkins  knew  him  better 
even  than  his  parents,  and  had  become  much  impressed  by 
his  personal  dignity.  This  he  showed  in  various  ways  of  his 
own.  For  example,  he  disliked  all  dirty  things,  and  was 
only  content  with  perfect  cleanliness.  Certain  pictures  in 


1 8  HOLY     ORDERS 

the  nursery  he  strove  to  hide  from  his  eyes  with  one  tiny 
chubby  hand,  and  as  this  gesture  was  not  quite  understood 
by  his  elders,  he  managed  to  clamber  up  on  his  cot,  and 
tear  them  down.  They  were  not  objectionable  pictures,  but 
they  were  unnatural — that  is  to  say,  they  were  '  nursery ' 
pictures,  of  the  kind  which  are  called  by  the  publishers  of 
Christmas  numbers,  '  suitable  for  children.'  There  were  fat 
infants  petting  impossible  lambs — and  red-faced  peasants 
carrying  pale  pink  dogs  in  their  arms — all  of  which  abnormal 
creatures  moved  Master  Laurence  to  quiet  scorn.  Azalea 
was  always  hearing  of  some  curious  and  original  deed  on 
the  part  of  her  son, — but  she  paid  very  little  attention  to 
any  of  the  signs  and  symptoms  of  his  possible  future  mental 
development.  All  she  thought  of  was  that  he  was  Her  baby 
— her  own,  her  very  awn  beautiful  baby! — and  her  chief 
idea  was  that  he  must  be  fed  well,  and  have  his  own  way 
whenever  it  was  possible.  This  was  the  business  of  the  day 
for  her — the  business  upon  which  she  set  all  her  energies — 
baby's  food.  Baby's  brain  and  baby's  thoughts  were — to  use 
her  own  frank  parlance — '  utter  nonsense.'  If  asked,  she 
would  have  said  with  the  most  charming  assumption  of 
maternal  wisdom,  that  a  child  of  two  has  no  brain  worth 
considering,  and  no  thoughts  worth  thinking.  That  was 
her  opinion.  Nurse  Tomkins  entertained  quite  a  different 
view  of  the  matter,  being  a  trained  woman  whose  life  had 
been  spent  with  children  of  all  sorts,  sickly  and  healthy, 
bright  and  dull,  and  who  had  studied  their  moods  and  man- 
ners with  close  and  sympathetic  attention.  She  was  affection- 
ately interested  in  her  charge  and  said  of  him  to  her  own 
special  friends — "  Master  Laurence  is  a  wonderful  child ! 
He  will  be  a  great  man !  " 

But  Azalea  thought  no  such  thing.  She  thought,  in  fact, 
as  little  about  the  mental  development  of  her  small  son  as 
she  did  of  the  '  soul '  (if  he  had  one)  of  the  troublesome 
Kiernan,  whose  drunken  delinquencies  had  summoned  her 
husband  out  of  his  peaceful  study  into  the  wind  and  rain  on 
this  cross  and  cloudy  March  morning.  She  was  perfectly- 
happy  in  herself — she  had  never  wanted  more  than  a  home, 
a  husband,  and  a  baby; — and  she  had  all  three.  Nothing 
further  existed  in  the  universe,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned. 
And  as  soon  as  she  had  finished  '  dusting  the  drawing-room,' 


HOLY     ORDERS  19 

— which  was  one  of  the  little  duties  she  imposed  on  herself, 
regardless  of  the  fact  that  the  housemaid  had  always  dusted 
it  perfectly  beforehand, — she  tripped  up  to  the  nursery,  sing- 
ing as  she  went,  full  of  a  careless  gayety,  being  so  happily 
constituted  as  to  be  indifferent  to  any  troubles  in  which 
she  did  not  share.  And,  after  all,  it  is  fortunate  that  the 
greater  majority  of  women  are  even  as  she, — and  that  few 
of  them  have  the  finer  perception  and  power  to  look  beyond 
the  circle  of  their  own  comfortable  surroundings  into  the 
speechless  miseries  of  the  wider  world. 


CHAPTER  II 

MEANTIME,  while  the  pleasures  of  peaceful  and 
contented  domesticity  reigned  in  his  household,  the 
Vicar  himself  was  hurrying  through  the  mist  and  rain  to  the 
village — not  to  the  ancient  stone-built  part  of  it,  but,  strange 
to  say,  to  the  '  model '  portion,  where  the  cottages  were  so 
pretty  and  so  cosily  devised  with  porches  and  little  separate 
gardens  to  each,  that  one  would  have  thought  it  impossible 
for  any  man  dwelling  in  such  comfortable  quarters  so  far 
to  forget  himself  as  to  come  home  drunk  at  any  time  of  day, 
much  less  in  the  morning  before  twelve  o'clock.  However, 
such  had  been  the  case  with  the  individual  called  Kiernan — 
a  huge,  hulking  creature  with  enormous  square  shoulders 
and  thick  bull  head,  who  now  leaning  his  powerful  arms 
folded  across  the  bars  of  his  cottage  gate,  looked  up  with  a 
drowsy  scowl  as  he  saw  the  Vicar  approaching.  Two  or 
three  other  men  were  hanging  sheepishly  about,  and  a  little 
knot  of  women,  with  shawls  over  their  heads,  were  grouped 
in  the  road,  heedless  of  the  pouring  rain,  talking  together, 
their  faces  expressing  a  vague  and  pitiful  terror.  Everton 
walked  straight  up  to  Kiernan  and  addressed  him  at  once 
without  parley. 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  he  asked  in  a  quiet  voice — 
"  May  I  come  in  ?  " 

The  man  eyed  him  over  with  a  stupid  leer. 

"  No — you  mayn't  " — he  replied  thickly, — "  A  'Glish- 
man's  'ouse  's  'is  castle !  Go  'way !  " 

Everton  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  Now,  Kiernan,  you  know  you  don't  mean  that," — he 
said  gently — "  What,  man ! — you  and  I  are  old  friends, 
aren't  we?  I  heard  you  wanted  me." 

Kiernan  blinked  at  him  suspiciously. 

"  Who  told  ye  as  I  wanted  ye  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  My  wife  did," — the  clergyman  answered  simply — 
"  Come  now,  Kiernan ! — let  me  in — I  want  to  speak  to 
you  privately " 

20 


HOLY     ORDERS  21 

"  Ye  wants  to  preach  to  me,  eh  ?  "  said  Kiernan — "  But 
ye  woan't  do  it! — no,  not  by  a  long  chalk!  I  knows  you 
parson  lot— whinin',  no-drink,  snivellin'  beggars  all  of  'em! 
Drunk?  O'  course,  I'm  drunk?  What  else  should  I  be? 
Drunk  an'  'appy  in  it !  Drunk  an'  'appy  in  it !  There ! " 

And  he  made  a  thrust  with  his  fist  into  space  furiously,  as 
though  he  knocked  down  an  imaginary  enemy.  Everton 
paused  a  moment.  Looking  round  among  the  group  of 
villagers  who  stood  hanging  back,  ashamed  and  inert,  he 
said  in  a  low  tone: — 

"  Is  there  anything  really  wrong  ?  Has  he  hurt  his  wife  ?  " 
A  woman  came  forward  and  volunteered  the  answer. 

"  Yes,  sir — I'm  afraid  so — at  least  as  far  as  we  can  tell. 
There  was  words — an'  she  ran  out  o'  the  cottage  screaming — 
and  then  ran  in  again,  and  then  we  heard  a  terrible  groan, — 
and — and  we're  afraid  she's  very  bad " 

"  She's  in  there!  "  said  Kiernan  suddenly,  then,  waking  as 
if  from  a  dull  reverie — "  She's  'ad  a  good  'un  this  time !  " 
He  began  to  laugh  thickly, — then  with  a  quick  change  from 
obstinacy  to  maudlin  mildness,  he  removed  his  arms  from 
the  gate — "  Come  in  all  of  ye  if  ye  likes !  She's  all  right ! 
Come  in,  Mister  Parson!  Come  in!  'Adn't  expected  so 
much  company,  but  never  mind — there  ain't  no  grudgin' 
where  Dan  Kiernan  is !  He  gives  it  fair  all  round !  Come 
in!" 

He  fell  back  and  reeled  on  one  side.  Everton  caught  him 
by  the  arm. 

"You're  ill,  Kiernan!"  he  said  kindly, — "With  a  worse 
illness  than  you  know.  Keep  steady !  " 

The  wretched  man  stared  vaguely  at  nothing,  and  began 
to  laugh  again. 

"I'm  or'right!"  he  stuttered — "Or'right,  Mister  Jack 
Sniveller!  Right  and  'appy  as  a  king!  You  lemme 
alone!" 

He  wrenched  himself  free  from  Everton's  hold  and 
staggering  up  to  his  own  cottage  fell  heavily  on  one  of  the 
little  seats  in  the  porch.  Everton  left  him  there,  and  pushing 
open  the  door  went  into  the  cottage  itself, — where  the  first 
thing  that  met  his  eyes  was  the  unconscious  body  of  a  woman 
face  downward  on  the  ground.  With  an  exclamation  of 
horror  and  pity,  he  strove  to  raise  her,  but  in  vain — then, 


22  HOLY    ORDERS 

stepping  outside  the  house  again  beckoned  to  some  of  the 
villagers  who  were  hanging  round  the  place  waiting  to  know 
the  worst.  They  came  at  his  bidding,  and  pressed  into  the 
little  dwelling,  past  Kiernan,  who  seemed  now  to  be  in  a 
heavy  stupor.  Lifting  the  insensible  woman  between  them, 
they  laid  her  on  her  bed — and  then  remained  in  a  frightened 
group  staring  at  the  ghastly  stains  of  blood  on  her  mouth, 
while  one  neighbor,  more  practical  than  the  rest,  fetching 
a  sponge  and  a  bowl  of  cold  water,  bathed  the  poor  crea- 
ture's forehead  and  tried  to  bring  her  back  to  consciousness. 
Everton  stood  by  the  bedside,  gazing  down  upon  the  pitiful 
sjght  with  a  stern  sorrow  graven  on  his  own  face.  This 
was  what  the  sacred  tie  of  marriage  meant  to  many  of 
the  laboring  classes! — this  brutality  and  degradation  of 
woman,  by  men  who,  when  muddled  by  drink,  were  lower 
in  their  passions  than  the  beasts  they  drove  to  the  sham- 
bles! 

"  Pray  God  she  is  not  dead ! "  he  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

The  woman  who  was  bathing  the  victim's  forehead 
answered  in  an  equally  low  tone: 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  I  don't  think  she's  dead/' — but  she  trembled 
a  little  as  she  spoke — "  though  Lord  knows  none  of  us  never 
knows  whether  we'll  live  from  week  to  week,  the  men  are 
goin'  that  wild  on  Minchin's  stuff  which  they  drinks  at 
all  hours  o'  the  day.  Dan  Kiernan  was  quite  a  decent 
chap,  so  I'm  told,  till  he  came  here." 

At  that  moment  Dan  Kiernan's  wife  opened  her  eyes, 
and  her  poor  livid  lips  twitched  into  a  little  smile. 

"  Don't  you  worrit,  Dan !  "  she  said  faintly — "  I  know 
you  didn't  mean  it — it  was  just  the  drink  that  drove  you 
to  it — only  the  drink,  for  you're  the  best  an'  finest  husband 
ever  woman  'ad  when  ye're  sober.  That'll  do,  Dan! — I'm 
obliged  to  ye! — I'll  be  getting  up  presently " 

Her  eyes  closed  again,  and  at  that  moment  Everton 
thankfully  perceived  the  local  surgeon,  one  Henry  Brand, 
entering  the  little  room — a  quiet,  shrewd-eyed  man  of 
middk-age,  known  as  '  Dr.  Harry,'  who  walking  straight 
up  to  the  bedside,  bent  over  the  unfortunate  Mrs.  Kiernan, 
and  examined  her  injuries  with  kindly  solicitude. 

"  She's  rather  badly  hurt,"  he  said  then,  turning  to  Ever- 
ton with  a  friendly  nod — "  It  will  be  some  days  before  she 


HOLY     ORDERS  23 

gets  about  again.  And  she'll  want  some  little  nursing. 
Wouldn't  some  one " 

"  I'll  attend  to  her,"  said  the  woman  who  had  already 
proffered  her  assistance — "  I've  got  nothing  much  to  do 
at  home,  my  son  bein'  away — I'll  see  she  gets  all  she 
wants " 

"And  I'll  pay  you  for  your  trouble,  Mrs.  Adcott,"  said 
Everton  quickly — "  But  Kiernan  himself " 

"  Kiernan  himself  is  in  a  far  worse  state  than  his  wife," 
said  the  doctor — "  He's  poisoned.  That's  what's  the  matter 
with  him.  He  has  got  as  much  arsenic  inside  him 
as  would  kill  a  horse — it  would  kill  him  if  he  had  not  ac- 
customed his  system  to  it.  I  passed  him  just  now  in  the 
porch — he's  in  a  dead  stupor." 

"  He's  drunk," — said  Everton. 

"  He's  drugged" — said  Brand,  emphatically — "  Not  quite 
the  same  thing,  yet  passing  for  the  same.  Come  and  look 
at  him." 

They  went  out  of  the  cottage  into  the  little  garden,  and 
stood  together  surveying  the  heavy  inert  form  of  the  miser- 
able man  who  was  half-sitting,  half-lying  in  the  porch, 
huddled  together  like  a  sack  of  useless  lumber. 

"  What's  to  be  done  with  him  ?  "  asked  Everton,  in  a  kind 
of  despair — "  He  cannot  go  back  to  his  work  to-day." 

"  Of  course  he  can't — and  nothing's  to  be  done  with  him. 
He'll  sleep  it  off — and  then — he'll  go  to  one  of  Minchin's 
places  again,  and  drink  more  of  the  vik  stuff  sold  there — 
and  then — well  then! — he'll  come  home  here  and — probably 
— finish  off  his  wife." 

"  But  it  can't — it  mustn't  be," — said  Everton  firmly — 
"I'll  come  myself  and  see  that  nothing  happens.  I'll  call 
at  both  public-houses  and  ask  them  not  to  sell  him  any  more 
drink " 

'  Dr.  Harry '  smiled. ': 

"You'll  kick  against  the  pricks,  Mr.  Everton!"  he  said 
— "  I  mean,  you'll  get  yourself  into  trouble  if  you  dol^Take 
my  advice — don't  interfere !  " 

"  But,  good  God !  "  exclaimed  Everton — "  Would  you 
have  me,  as  Vicar  of  this  parish,  stand  off  and  allow  a 
woman  to  be  murdered  by  her  husband  when  he  is  not  really 
responsible  for  the  crime !  " 


24  HOLY;  ORDERS 

Brand  was  silent.    He  seemed  to  be  thinking. 

"  That's  a  very  true  phrase  of  yours,  Mr.  Everton," — 
he  said  presently — "  And  I'm  glad  to  hear  it  from  a  clergy- 
man's mouth.  *  Not  really  responsible  for  the  crime.' 
That's  it.  Kiernan  is  not  responsible.  JYho  is?  Tell  me 
that!" 

"  In  this  case  Minchin  is  responsible !  " — rejoined  Ever- 
ton hotly — "  His  brewery  is  a  curse  to  the  parish !  " 

"  If  it  were  only  good  beer," — said  Brand,  thoughtfully, 
"  there'd  be  no  harm  at  all  in  it.  A  pint  of  pure  beer  hurts 
no  man.  But  a  pint  of  mixed  poison  is  a  different  matter 
altogether.  And — as  you  say — Minchin  is  responsible.  If 
Dan  Kiernan  wakes  up  in  two  or  three  hours,  and  gets 
more  drink  and  kills  his  wife  altogether,  Minchin  will  be 
the  real  murderer, — not  Kiernan." 

"  That's  the  right  way  to  put  it," — said  Everton — "  It's 
a  strong  way — but  it's  the  right  way.  However,  I'll  take 
care  no  more  mischief  is  done  for  the  present  at  any  rate. 
I'll  look  after  Kiernan  when  he  wakes." 

"  You'll  look  after  him !  "  and  the  doctor's  eyes  twinkled 
humorously — "  What  will  you  do  with  him  ?  " 

Everton's  rather  thin,  delicate  face  looked  a  shade  more 
careworn  and  serious. 

"  I  don't  quite  know," — he  said,  simply — "  But  I  am 
placed  here  in  this  parish  as  guardian  of  the  moral  and 
spiritual  welfare  of  all  the  people  under  my  charge — and  I 
must  try  my  best.  I  am  quite  aware" — here  he  hesitated 
a  moment,  then  spoke  out  more  bravely — "  I  am  quite  aware 
how  little  a  clergyman  can  do  even  at  the  best  of  times  to 
warn  or  persuade, — I  know  that  the  very  doctrines  of  Our 
Lord  are,  in  these  strange  days  of  rank  materialism,  placed 
as  it  were  *  under  suspicion,' — but  I  am  inured  to  all  that 
— and  prepared  for  failure  always; — still — as  I  said  before 
— I  must  try  my  best." 

Brand  was  silent.  He  had  a  great  respect  for  the  Vicar, 
commingled  with  an  under-sense  of  vague  compassion.  As  a 
medical  man  whose  practice  lay  chiefly  among  the  working 
classes,  he  knew  exactly  how  much  and  how  little  to  ex- 
pect of  them.  He  knew  that  they  resented  all  interference, 
even  if  it  were  for  their  good — and  equally  he  knew  that 
most  of  them  possessed  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  warm 


HOLY     ORDERS  25 

homely  sentiment,  which  if  appealed  to  in  the  proper  way, 
never  failed  to  move  them  to  a  right  condition  of  mind. 
In  fact,  as  he  often  said  among  his  own  intimates,  it  was  not 
religion  which  had  so  much  hold  on  them  as  the  sentiment 
of  religion — and  the  most  successful  spiritual  controller  of 
their  conduct  was  the  man  who  most  ably  maintained  that 
sentiment  in  his  own  attitude  and  behavior  towards  them. 

"  I  think," — resumed  Everton,  after  a  pause,  in  a  cheerier 
tone — "  I'll  just  run  up  and  tell  my  wife  that  I  shall  not 
be  home  to  luncheon — and  then  I'll  come  back  here  and 
wait  till  Kiernan  wakes." 

"  He  won't  wake  for  at  least  an  hour," — said  Brand,  sur- 
veying with  some  disfavor  the  hulking  heap  of  man  doubled 
up  in  the  porch,  over  whicb  an  early  flowering  yellow  jas- 
mine nodded  its  innocent  golden  sprays — "  Besides — why 
should  you  come  back?  Isn't  there  a  man  in  the  village 
who  could  keep  an  eye  on  him?" 

"  Not  a  man  who  would  have  the  strength  to  contend 
with  him," — replied  Everton — "  If  he  wanted  to  go  back 
to  the  public-house,  there's  no  one  in  the  place  who  would 
dare  hinder  him." 

"  No  one  who  would  dare! "  repeated  the  doctor  mus- 
ingly— "  Well ! — No ! — I  suppose  not."  He  looked  again 
at  Everton's  slim  figure  and  thoughtful  face — then  he  said 
hurriedly — "  All  right !  I  shall  be  about  in  the  neighbor- 
hood,— Mrs.  Kibble,  another  victim  of  Minchin's  brew,  fell 
over  with  a  kettle  of  boiling  watef  yesterday  and  scalded 
her  arm — so  I'm  looking  after  her  and  a  few  others.  And 
— by  the  way — there's  that  young  fellow,  Robert  Hadley 
— he'll  not  last  very  long  now.  It's  galloping  consumption 
and  he  has  not  the  ghost  of  a  chance.  I  suppose  you  couldn't 
say  a  word  about  him  to  the  girl  Jacynth  ?  " 

Everton's  brows  darkened. 

"  The  girl  Jacynth  is  a  hopeless  character,"  he  said  slowly 
— "  Hopeless,  because  heartless !  " 

The  doctor  gave  him  a  quick  glance. 

"  Well,  you  know  best  about  that," — he  said — "  Her  good 
looks  are  almost  as  great  a  curse  to  some  men  as  the 
brewery.  You've  certainly  got  enough  to  do  with  your 
parishioners,  Mr.  Everton!  Your  work's  cut  out  for  you 
in  Shadbrook  and  no  mistake!  Good-bye  for  the  present!  " 


26  HOLY     ORDERS 

He  strode  off — and  Everton  stood  still  in  the  little  porch 
of  Kiernan's  cottage,  smitten  by  a  sudden  sharp  sense  of 
pain. 

'*  Your  work's  cut  out  for  you  in  Shadbrook !  " 

Was  it  so  '  cut  out '  ?  Had  he  not  that  very  morning 
longed  for  a  wider  field  of  labor?  His  heart  ached  heavily 
— and  a  feeling  of  utter  weariness  overcame  him.  He  looked 
at  the  drunken  man  huddled  on  the  seat  close  by,  with  an 
almost  shuddering  sense  of  repulsion.  Was  the  '  soul '  of 
that  disgraced  human  creature  really  valuable  to  the  Al- 
mighty Creator  of  Heaven  and  Earth,  before  whom  our 
planet  itself  is  but  a  grain  of  dust?  Surely  it  was  stretch- 
ing too  fine  a  point  to  say  it  was !  And  yet — Science  with  her 
clear  vision  and  evenly-balanced  scales  of  justice,  declared 
that  not  even  -a  grain  of  dust  was  lost  in  the  great  scheme 
of  the  universe.  And  what  and  who  was  he — Richard 
Everton — that  he  should  presume  to  set  any  limit  to  the 
minute  as  well  as  magnificent  intention  of  the  Divine 
Cosmos!  Stung  by  a  quick  shame  as  well  as  remorse,  he 
roused  himself  from  his  thoughts,  and  turning  towards 
the  half-open  cottage  door  inquired  gently  of  the  woman 
within — 

"  How  is  Mrs.  Kiernan  now  ?  " 

"  Sleeping  easy,  sir,  thank  you," — and  Mrs.  Adcott, 
brown,  wrinkled,  but  kindly  of  face  and  brisk  in  movement, 
came  to  the  door — "  Don't  you  bother  no  more,  Mr.  Everton 
— mebbe  we'll  'ave  a  bit  of  trouble  when  Dan  wakes " 

"  I  shall  be  here,"  replied  Everton  quickly — "  So  you 
need  not  be  anxious.  I'm  just  going  to  the  Vicarage  for 
a  moment — and  then  I'll  come  back  again." 

He  smiled  cheerily  and  raised  his  hat  with  the  courtesy 
which  he  invariably  showed  to  all  women,  rich  or  poor,  old 
and  young — and  hurried  away  home.  His  wife  saw  him 
coming  from  the  nursery  windows,  and  ran  down  to  open 
the  door  with  expressions  of  cooing  delight  that  he  had  re- 
turned so  soon. 

"  It's  only  for  a  few  minutes,  Azalea," — he  said  regret- 
fully— "  Just  give  me  a  cup  of  soup  and  a  biscuit — that's 
all  the  lunch  I  want.  I  must  go  and  watch  Kiernan  till 
he  wakes." 

She  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  dismay. 


HOLY     ORDERS  27 

"Go  and  watch  Kiernan!"  she  echoed— "  Oh,  Dick! 
What  are  you  thinking  about!  That  dreadful  man!  Why 
should  you!  It's  quite  absurd! — it  really  is !" 

"  I  don't  think  so,  Azalea," — he  said,  with  mild  firm- 
ness— "  Kiernan  has  nearly  killed  his  wife  as  it  is — it  will 
be  days  before  she  leaves  her  bed.  He's  now  in  a  heavy 
stupor — when  he  wakes,  the  first  thing  he  will  do  is  to  set 
off  to  the  public-house  again — and  I  wouldn't  answer  for 
his  wife's  life  to-night  if  he  does.  He  must  be  prevented 
from  drinking  any  more  to-day — and  I'm  going  to  prevent 
him." 

"  You  can't,  Dick," — said  his  wife,  positively — "  He'll 
simply  knock  you  down !  " 

"  Let  him !  "  and  Everton  laughed — "  I  daresay  I  shall 
be  a  match  for  him  if  it  comes  to  boxing !  " 

Mrs.  Everton  drooped  her  pretty  head,  and  her  lips 
framed  the  little  pout  that  was  so  eminently  kissable. 

"But,  Dick!"  she  protested, — "I  don't  really  see  that 
it  is  your  business " 

He  interrupted  her. 

"  Is  it  my  business  to  prevent  murder  in  the  village,  or 
is  it  not?"  he  asked,  almost  sternly.  "Azalea,  why  do 
you  try  to  weaken  my  hands !  " 

She  tried  to  look  penitent,  but  failed. 

"  You  might  send  for  a  policeman," — she  murmured — 
"  and  have  the  wretched  drunken  brute  locked  up " 

"  If  I  did  that," — he  said  quietly — "  I  should  deserve  to 
be  locked  up  myself.  Kiernan  would,  when  sober,  very 
rightly  judge  me  as  one  of  the  sneaks  and  cowards  he  thinks 
all  clergymen  are.  No,  Azalea! — I  shall  deal  with  Kiernan 
as  I  would  wish  to  be  dealt  with  myself,  if  I  were  in  his 
condition." 

"  Oh  dear ! "  And  Azalea  clapped  her  hands  and  gave 
vent  to  a  little  rippling  peal  of  laughter — "  You  in  that  con- 
dition !  Fancy !  You,  poor,  gentle,  good  old  Dick !  There ! 
— I'm  sorry  if  I've  said  anything  naughty!  I'll  order  the 
soup  for  you — and  oh,  Dick! — Baby  is  simply  quite  won- 
derful to-day! — Nurse  says  he's  a  positive  miracle!" 

"What  has  he  done  now?"  And  Richard,  his  momen- 
tary vexation  passing,  threw  off  his  wet  great-coat  and  went 
into  the  dining-room,  there  to  wait  till  the  light  refresh- 


28  HOLY    ORDERS 

ment  he  had  asked  for  was  served  to  him — "  I'm  prepared 
for  anything!  " 

"  He  has  begun  to  write!  "  declared  Azalea  gleefully — 
"  Nurse  gave  him  a  pencil  and  paper  just  to  keep  him  quiet, 
and  he  wrote  all  over  it  in  the  sweetest  running  hand! 
Don't  laugh,  Dick !  It's  really  wonderful!  Of  course  there 
are  no  real  words  on  the  paper, — it's  only  scribble, — but 
still  it  shows  that  he  wants  to  write,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  it  does !  "  said  Everton,  with  an  air  of  mock 
gravity — "And  it's  a  very  bad  sign,  Azalea!  It  shows 
that  we  must  keep  the  boy  down — nip  him  in  the  bud !  For 
if  he  were  to  be  clever — what  then!  You  know  you  don't 
want  him  to  be  a  clever  man — you've  often  said  so !  " 

Azalea  pouted  and  looked  a  little  cross. 

"  I  didn't  mean  that  way," — she  said — "  Of  course  I  want 
him  to  know  how  to  read  and  write." 

"Why?"  demanded  Richard  playfully— " Why  should 
he  possess  such  doubtful  accomplishments?  For  if  he  reads, 
he  will  perhaps  think — and  if  he  thinks,  he  may  possibly 
want  to  utter  his  thoughts  to  a  wider  audience  than  his 
mother  and  father — and  so  he  may  perhaps  become  that 
dreadful,  dangerous,  and  dyspeptic  thing — an  author — and 
what  should  we  do  then,  Azalea?  What  should  we  do 
with  such  a  disappointing  son?  Suppose  he  were  to  turn 
out  a  second  Shakespeare?  I'm  sure  it  would  break  our 
hearts!" 

He  laughed,  and  his  light  luncheon  being  brought  in  at 
this  juncture,  he  made  haste  to  dispose  of  it.  His  wife 
watched  him,  looking  rather  like  a  chidden  child. 

"  Will  you  be  with  that  man  Kiernan  long  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  .It  will  depend  on  Kiernan — not  on  me," 
he  answered — "  And  I  think — yes,  I  think,  Azalea,  you 
must  go  and  see  his  poor  wife  to-morrow  morning, — sit 
with  her  a  little  and  cheer  her  up — it  will  do  the  poor  thing 
a  world  of  good  to  see  your  bright  pretty  face  bending  over 
her." 

She  was  silent.  In  her  heart  she  hated  visiting  poor 
people,  especially  when  they  were  ill.  It  was  so  '  painful,' 
she  said — and  sometimes  things  were  '  not  very  clean.'  But 
she  made  no  objection  to  her  husband's  suggestion.  He 
finished  his  hasty  meal,  and  looked  at  her  questioningly. 


HOLY     ORDERS  29 

"You'll  go,  won't  you,  dear?  "  he  said. 

"Oh  yes!"  she  replied,  with  a  little  sigh— -"  111  go!" 

He  took  no  notice  of  the  touch  of  hesitation  in  her  man- 
ner. 

"  Young  Hadley  is  dying  fast," — he  went  on — "  So  Mr. 
Brand  tells  me.  I  suppose," — he  paused  and  then  went 
on ;  "I  suppose — you,  as  a  woman — cannot  do  anything 
with  Jacynth  Miller?  " 

She  flushed  suddenly. 

"  Oh,  Dick!  How  can  I?  Jacynth  Miller  is  a  real  bad 
girl!  It  isn't  only  Bob  Hadley — she's  a  brute  to  others  as 
well!" 

"  I  know! "  he  said,  sorrowfully — "  But  Hadley  is  dying 
— and  he  loved  her.  He  would  like  to  see  her  again  just 
once — and  she  will  not  go  near  him." 

"  Well,  if  she  won't,  I  cannot  make  her," — said  Azalea, 
decisively — "  So  don't  ask  me  to  try,  Dick!  " 

"  Very  well."  He  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders,  and 
for  a  moment,  bent  an  earnest,  rather  wistful  gaze  upon 
her.  Then  he  kissed  her  gently.  "You  must  do  as  you 
think  best,  Azalea! " 

"  You  won't  be  long  away,  will  you  ?  "  she  pleaded,  as 
she  followed  him  out  of  the  dining-room  into  the  hall. 

"  No, — certainly  not  longer  than  I  can  help !  " — he  an- 
swered, and  in  another  couple  of  minutes  he  was  gone. 

"  Horrible  villagers!  "  and  Azalea,  uttering  this  exclama- 
tion to  herself,  gave  a  little  stamp  of  her  foot  to  enforce  it 
— "  They  are  just  simply  awful!  Oh,  they  are !  Drink, 
drink,  drink,  and  gossip,  gossip,  gossip,  all  day  long!  They 
come  to  church  on  Sundays,  and  stare  at  each  other,  and 
pretend  to  say  their  prayers,  and  then  they  go  home  and 
run  each  other  down  as  wickedly  and  scandalously  as  they 
can.  And  they  actually  call  themselves  Christians!" 

She  gave  a  toss  of  her  pretty  head  and  ran  upstairs  to 
her  precious  baby,  never  considering  for  a  moment  that 
perhaps  she  herself  was  not  altogether  '  Christian  '  in  the 
sentiments  she  had  just  expressed,  concerning  the  inhabitants 
of  Shadbrook. 

"  Nurse !  " — she  exclaimed,  as  she  tripped  lightly  into 
the  pretty  airy  room,  where  '  Master  Laurence '  was  just 
now  considering  the  possibilities  of  a  square  wooden  block 


30  HOLY     ORDERS 

with  the  first  letter  of  the  alphabet  gorgeously  painted 
thereon — "  Mr.  Everton  has  had  to  go  down  into  the  vil- 
lage again  to  see  after  that  terrible  Kiernan!  And  he's 
only  had  a  cup  of  soup  and  a  biscuit !  It's  too  bad !  There 
is  such  a  lot  of  drunkenness  in  the  place!  It's  simply  aw- 
ful! And  yet  nearly  all  the  parishioners  come  to  church 
and  pretend  to  be  good !  " 

Nurse  Tomkins  smiled   discreetly. 

"  Oh  well,  ma'am,"  she  said — "  It's  not  only  in  Shad- 
brook  that  they  do  that ! " 

Azalea  paid  no  heed  to  this  remark.  She  flung  herself 
down  on  the  floor  beside  her  small  son,  who  stared  at  her 
with  gravely  sweet  blue  eyes,  and  a  little  wondering  smile. 

"  Baby  darling !  "  she  said — "  Oh,  baby  darling,  you've 
no  idea  what  horrid  people  there  are  in  the  world !  " 

Baby  darling  certainly  had  not.  He  wore  an  expression 
of  heavenly  peace  and  contentment — and  only  manifested  a 
slight  surprise  when  his  mother,  to  attract  his  attention,  held 
up  a  woolly  toy-dog  which  had  a  bell  in  its  inside,  and 
shook  it  at  him.  Now  he  had  left  that  interesting  animal 
purposely  in  a  corner — and  he  could  not  quite  understand 
why  it  had  been  brought  out  to  confront  him  suddenly, 
when  he  was  busy  with  the  letter  A.  In  the  strong  predi- 
lection he  had  shown  for  neatness  and  cleanliness,  he  had 
likewise  intimated  his  desire  to  avoid  mental  confusion — 
and  he  liked  one  thing  at  a  time — not  two  or  three  things 
all  cast  before  him  in  a  higgledly-piggledly  fashion.  And 
at  the  present  moment  he  grasped  the  wooden-blocked  letter 
A  more  tenaciously  and  showed  plainly  that  he  considered 
the  toy-dog  an  intruder.  Whereupon  Azalea  threw  it  down, 
so  that  its  inside  bell  clashed  dismally. 
^  "  He  doesn't  like  it  now !  "  she  said  to  Nurse  Tomkins 
— "  Isn't  it  funny  ?  He  used  to  be  so  fond  of  that  little 
woolly  thing!" 

"  Oh,  he'll  take  to  it  again  by-and-bye," — said  the  patient 
Tomkins — "You  can't  expect  him  to  like  the  same  things 
always — even  grown-ups  don't  do  that!  " 

At  that  moment  Master  Laurence  uttered  a  remark.  He 
was  beginning  fo  talk  in  curious  fragments  of  English — 
and  only  the  trained  ear  could  make  out  his  efforts  at  wit 
and  wisdom.  He  held  up  the  letter  A  and  said : 


HOLY     ORDERS  31 

"  Muzza  yame!" 

"Yes,  that's  right!"  said  Nurse  Tomkins  mildly — 
"  Mother's  name.  Begins  with  A.  A  stands  for  Mother's 
name.  Quite  right!  " 

Azalea  was  almost  breathless  at  this  sudden  outburst  of 
Master  Laurence's  learning. 

"  The  darling!  "  she  cried — "  Isn't  he  sweet!  Oh,  Nurse, 
I'm  sure  he'll  be  very  clever!  "  She  jumped  up  from  the 
floor,  and  looked  out  of  the  window.  "  Oh,  isn't  it  raining, 
raining !  "  she  said  petulantly — "  We  might  have  gone  out  if 
it  had  cleared  up  only  just  a  little!  I  hate  being  in  doors 
all  day."  She  sighed.  "  Poor  Dick!  Fancy  his  going  to 
watch  that  awful  drunkard  Kiernan!  " 

"  He  wasn't  always  so  bad,  I've  heard," — said  Nurse 
Tomkins  slowly — "  There's  good  in  him  somewhere — but 
it's  hard  to  discover.  However,  if  it's  to  be  found  at  all, 
the  Vicar  will  find  it." 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  And  Azalea  drummed  with  her  little 
white  fingers  on  the  window-pane  as  she  looked  out  at  the 
lowering  sky — "  I'm  not  at  all  sure!  He's  too  good  and 
gentle — and  some  of  the  people  about  here  call  him  '  soft.' 
That  does  make  me  so  angry!  And  I  wish  he  would  be 
hard!  Hard  as  nails!" 

"  That  wouldn't  be  like  Christ," — said  the  nurse — "  And 
a  Christian  minister  has  to  try  and  be  as  like  Christ  as 
possible." 

Azalea  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"You  are  a  real  believer,  aren't  you?"  she  asked,  "I 
mean,  you  really  do  think  Christ  wants  you  to  be  good  and 
to  take  care  of  your  soul  ?  " 

Nurse  Tomkins,  who  was  a  quiet,  painstaking  and  de- 
votional woman,  seemed  a  little  startled  by  the  query. 

"  I  don't  think  I  quite  look  at  it  in  that  way," — she  re- 
plied, "  but  I  love  the  beautiful  life  and  teaching  of  Our 
Lord,  and  I  don't  ask  any  questions — I  just  trust  Him,  and 
do  the  best  I  can." 

"  But  that's  not  orthodox,  you  know," — said  Azalea — 
"  That's  not  all  you've  got  to  believe.  I  sometimes  think," 
— Here  she  broke  off  and  laughed — "  Oh  no !  I  never 
think  at  all.  It  doesn't  do!  But  I  ought  never  to  have 
been  a  clergyman's  wife  really.  Because  I  don't  like  visit- 


32  HOLY    ORDERS 

ing  the  sick  and  the  poor,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing — and 
though  I'm  a  mother,  I'm  not  fit  to  hold  a  mothers'  meet- 
ing, or  preside  over  a  Girls'  Friendly  Society,  or  anything 
— it  wants  somebody  old  and  plain  and  prim  for  that — and 
I'm  not  old — and  I'm  not  plain,  and  I'm  not  prim!  I'm 
just  silly!  Yes — silly/  It's  so  nice  to  be  silly  when  one  is 
young — and  at  present  I  really  cannot  be  anything  else. 
Even  Baby  looks  wiser  than  I  shall  ever  feel !  " 

Here  she  lifted  the  child  from  the  floor,  and  held  him 
up  to  the  window.  He  at  once  showed  displeasure  at  the 
sight  of  the  pouring  rain,  and  struggled  to  get  down. 

"Dear  me,  Nurse!"  she  exclaimed,  almost  pettishly — 
"  How  restless  Baby  is!  He  really  seems  dissatisfied  with 
everything!  " 

Nurse  Tomkins  smiled  again. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  he's  dissatisfied,  ma'am," — she  said, 
"  But  I've  always  noticed  that  he  doesn't  like  being  taken 
away  from  one  thing  to  do  another.  You  see  he  was 
busy " 

"  Busy ! "  echoed  Azalea,  with  wide-open  eyes — "  Why 
what  on  earth  was  he  doing?  " 

"  He  had  his  alphabet,"  and  the  nurse  pointed  to  the 
scattered  blocks  that  lay  about  the  floor — "  And  I  think  he 
was  trying  to  make  words.  He  often  manages  to  spell  quite 
long  words  correctly.  If  you  put  him  down  I'm  sure  he'll 
go  back  to  his  work." 

Azalea  laughed  merrily. 

"  Go  back  to  his  work !  Oh,  Baby  dear !  You  queer 
little  soul ! "  Here  she  set  him  on  the  floor,  much  to  his 
delight — "  The  idea  of  your  working/  " 

She  laughed  again,  while  Master  Laurence,  toddling  un- 
steadily, yet  determinedly,  made  straight  for  his  bricks,  and 
squatting  down  comfortably,  set  himself  again  to  the  labor 
of  arranging  them  in  such  form  and  sequence  as  he  imagined 
might  lead  to  the  comprehension  of  the  language  used  by 
the  strange  human  beings  among  whom  he,  as  a  small 
transformed  angel,  had  now  to  take  his  place  and  part. 
His  mother  watched  him  for  a  moment,  then  yawned  un- 
disguisedly. 

"  It's  time  for  lunch  now," — she  said,  with  a  glance  at 
the  clock — "  I  must  go  down  and  have  it  all  by  myself. 


HOLY     ORDERS  33 

It's  really  too  bad  of  Dick  to  put  himself  out  so  much,  all 
for  the  sake  of  such  a  hopeless  character  as  Dan  Kiernan. 
He'll  do  no  good,  I'm  sure." 

She  sauntered  out  of  the  nursery,  singing  as  she  went. 
Nurse  Tomkins  made  no  remark,  and  only  continued  her 
sewing  a  little  more  quickly.  Glancing  at  her  young 
charge,  she  saw  that  he  had  set  three  letters  of  the  alphabet 
in  line  on  the  floor — wide  apart,  but  in  a  fairly  straight 
position, — and  that  he  was  alternately  looking  at  these 
and  at  a  large  colored  text  which  hung  on  the  wall :  '  God 
is  Love.'  His  baby  brow  was  knitted,  almost  puckered  with 
thought,  and  his  little  rosebud  mouth  was  folded  into  quite 
a  severe  line.  He  studied  his  straggling  blocks  with  deep 
earnestness.  G.  O.  D.  There  was  a  mystery  behind  them, 
if  he  could  only  grapple  with  it. 

"  Put  them  together,  dearie!  "  said  Nurse  Tomkins  coax- 
ingly — "All  together!"  He  turned  and  looked  at  her 
questioningly.  She  made  a  collective  movement  with  her 
hand.  "So!  Side  by  side!  All  together !"  His  big  blue 
eyes  sparkled — and  he  understood.  Soon  he  had  the  word 
clear:  'GOD.' 

"  That's  quite  right !  "  said  the  nurse,  in  her  soft,  soothing 
voice — "  That's  just  as  it  should  be.  GOD.  That's  like 
the  pretty  picture  up  there.  *  God  is  Love.'  '  And  she 
smiled  and  nodded  at  him  encouragingly.  He  gave  her  a 
responsive  smile,  but  at  the  same  time  heaved  a  small  sigh. 
'  GOD.'  The  word  stared  him  in  the  face,  and  he  folded 
his  chubby  hands  together  and  stared  back  at  it  again.  It 
was  a  great  Sign ;  and  some  dim  consciousness  of  it  seemed 
to  affect  him.  The  real  idea  which  had  taken  possession 
of  his  brain  was  that  he  must  try  and  copy  the  text  on  the 
wall, — but  the  effort  had  been  rather  more  than  he  had 
anticipated.  He  therefore  permitted  himself  to  pause  and 
reflect.  The  nurse  stopped  her  busy  sewing  for  a  moment 
and  watched  him.  She  was  one  of  the  very  few  women 
who  think  seriously  about  anything — and  there  was  a  cer- 
tain suggestiveness  in  the  attitude  of  the  tiny  child  sitting 
with  closely  folded  hands  opposite  that  mystic  name  on 
which  the  whole  world  hangs  like  a  dewdrop  hanging  on 
one  petal  of  the  immortal  Rose  of  Life.  GOD — and  a 
Child!  The  two  are  near  akin  in  purity, — and  the  words 


34  HOLY     ORDERS 

of  Christ — "  Except  ye  become  as  little  children  ye  shall 
not  enter  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven," — are  true  for  all  time. 
Almost  involuntarily  the  nurse's  lips  moved  in  a  sudden 
prayer:  "  God  bless  the  dear  little  soul  and  make  him  a 
good  man ! " — and  for  once,  she  did  not  follow  her  usual 
habit  of  anticipation  as  to  his  possibly  being  a  '  great '  man. 
A  '  good  '  man  seemed  the  more  natural  outcome  of  that 
small  sweet  creature  absorbed  in  the  study  of  the  Name  by 
which  he  w,as  to  know  his  Maker. 

"  Between  him  and  Dan  Kiernan," — she  murmured — 
"What  a  difference!  And  yet — even  Kiernan  was  a  little 
innocent  child  like  that  once !  " 


CHAPTER    III 

WITH  the  passing  of  the  hours,  the  clouds  thickened, 
and  the  rain  poured  persistently  over  Shadbrook  as 
though  it  meant  to  drown  both  the  old  and  -new  village 
for  good  and  all.  The  polluted  brook  swelled  to  a  torrent 
which  rattled  among  the  cast-away  pots  and  pans  and  pre- 
served meat-tins  with  quite  an  angry  volume  of  sound,  and 
the  decaying  vegetables  began  to  float  steadily  away  on  a 
journey  towards  the  river,  there  to  be  mercifully  swept  into 
the  clean  oblivion  of  the  sea.  Everton  sat  just  within  the 
open  doorway  of  Kiernan's  cottage,  looking  at  the  heavy 
showers  which  spread  a  cold  gray  sheet  of  wet  over  the  vis- 
ible scene,  and  in  the  kindness  of  his  heart  he  felt  sorry  for 
Kiernan  himself,  who  still  sleeping  in  the  porch,  was  likely  to 
be  chilled  through  by  the  creeping  damp  which  penetrated 
to  the  very  bones,  despite  the  warmest  clothing.  In  truth 
the  wretched  man  made  a  miserable  picture,  rolled  together 
as  it  were  in  what  was  more  of  a  stupor  than  a  sleep — 
his  breathing  was  loud  and  irregular — his  face  was  flushed 
with  patches  of  feverish  red,  and  the  veins  in  his  thick 
neck  stood  out  like  knotted  whip-cord.  The  Vicar  sur- 
veyed him  anxiously — and  from  time  to  time  glanced  at 
his  watch.  It  was  nearing  three  o'clock.  He  had  been 
more  than  two  hours  at  his  post — and  it  was  only  natural 
that  he  should  feel  tired.  He  was  tired,  and  he  admitted 
it  to  himself — tired  and  sick  at  heart.  What,  after  all,  was 
the  good  of  his  remaining  beside  this  hopeless  drunkard, 
who,  when  he  woke  would  probably  only  resent  his  pres- 
ence? He  had  no  power  to  persuade — he  was  merely  a 
parson, — he  was  not  a  brewer.  The  brewer  was  the  physi- 
cal and  moral  governor  of  such  men  as  Kiernan; — the 
brewer  could  compel  them  to  murder  or  robbery — but  the 
minister  of  Christ  could  not  hold  them  back  from  the  brew- 
er's sway.  How  inefficient  then — how  more  than  feeble 
seemed  the  Minister  of  Christ ! 

35 


36  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  What  use  am  I  ?  "  he  thought  wearily — "  I  can  read 
the  services — I  can  preach  sermons  which  are  '  orthodox ' 
— I  can  baptize,  marry,  and  bury  my  parishioners — but  I 
cannot  hold  one  of  them  back  from  the  public-house!  I 
can  talk  to  them  of  the  evils  of  drink; — I  can  put  a  true 
scientific  analysis  of  Minchin's  brew  before  them — oh  yes! 
— I  can  do  all  this — without  the  least  effect!  They  listen, 
of  course, — they  show  that  outward  respect  which  they 
consider  due  to  me — and  having  heard  all  I  have  to  say, 
they  straightway  forget  it.  And  I  am  not  alone  in  my 
trouble.  Thousands  of  men  in  my  calling  are  attempting 
the  same  hopeless  task, — others,  wearied  by  their  own  in- 
effectual endeavors,  have  given  it  up  in  despair  and  are 
content  to  '  let  things  go,' — and  there  is  always  the  same 
old  cry  in  every  rural  town  and  village — '  the  parson  in- 
terferes with  everybody  and  everything.'  God  knows  I  do 
not  seek  to  '  interfere ' — it  is  only  that  if  I  see  human  souls 
rushing  blindly  to  perdition,  I  cannot  look  on  without 
interposing  myself  between  them  and  the  brink  of  Hell. 
And  for  that  I  am  likely  to  be  blamed — and  worse  than 
blamed — mistrusted !  " 

At  that  moment  the  stupefied  Kiernan  gave  a  violent 
start, — stretching  out  his  brawny  arms,  he  entered  into  a 
kind  of  furious  struggle  with  himself,  in  the  course  of  which 
he  opened  his  eyes  and  glowered  about  him  like  an  angry 
bull. 

"  'Ullo !  "  he  stammered,  seeing  Everton — "  Who's — 
who's  that  ?  " 

"  The  Vicar," — answered  Everton. 

Kiernan  gave  vent  to  an  inarticulate  exclamation,  and 
struggled  up  on  to  his  feet. 

"  The  Vicar !  "  And  standing  upright,  he  swayed  to  and 
fro  unsteadily — "  G — good-morning,  sir !  " 

"  Good-morning,  Kiernan," — responded  Everton,  com- 
posedly— "  or  rather,  good-afternoon !  It's  three  o'clock. 
You  didn't  think  it  was  as  late  as  that,  did  you?" 

Kiernan  was  rubbing  his  hand  vaguely  over  his  hair. 

"  No," — he  said,  thickly — "  I  didn't  think  'twas  so  late — 
I've  overslept  myself " 

"  You've  over-drunk  yourself,  man — that's  what's  the 
matter  " — and  Everton  stood  up  face  to  face  with  him  as 


HOLY     ORDERS  37 

he  spoke — "  And,  Kiernan — I  know  you'll  be  sorry  for  it — 
you've  hurt  your  wife  very  badly." 

"  'Urt  my  wife?"  Kiernan  stopped  rubbing  his  hair  and 
looked  startled — "'Urt  Jennie?  'Ow's  that?  What's  the 
matter?" 

"  Come  and  see!  " 

And  Everton  turned  into  the  cottage,  beckoning  Kiernan 
to  follow.  He  did  so  with  a  stumbling  step,  and  at  the 
first  sight  of  his  wife  lying  in  bed,  with  her  pale  face  and 
closed  eyes,  he  became  as  it  were  instantly  sobered. 

"  Jennie !  Jennie !  "  he  said,  in  quite  a  changed  voice — 
"  What's  wrong,  lass?  Eh? — Jennie!  " 

She  opened  her  eyes  and  her  poor  thin  features  were 
transfigured  by  a  smile  of  inexpressible  love  and  tenderness. 

"  Dan !  "  She  held  out  her  arms,  and  as  he  bent  over 
her  she  laid  them  gently  round  his  neck — "  Dear  Dan !  You 
didn't  mean  it — I  know  you  didn't! — It  was  just  the  drink 
that  drove  you  mad  for  a  minute " 

He  lifted  her  up  and  held  her  against  his  breast. 

"What  did  I  do,  Jennie?  Tell  me!  Did  I  'urt  ye? 
God  forgive  me!  Did  I  'urt  ye?  " 

"  No !  "  said  his  wife,  bravely — "  Only  a  very  little. 
Don't  you  mind!  I'll  soon  be  all  right,  Dan!  But  you'll 
keep  away,  Dan — won't  you? — you'll  keep  away  from  the 
drink, — not  for  my  sake,  but  for  your  own,  Dan, — it  does 
upset  you  so !  Kiss  me,  Dan !  " 

He  kissed  her  and  laid  her  down — then  looked  in  a  be- 
wildered way  round  the  little  room.  Mrs.  Adcott,  in  her 
self-appointed  duty  of  nurse,  had  made  some  tea,  and  she 
now  held  out  a  cupful  of  that  fragrant  beverage. 

"Drink  this,  Dan!"  she  said  brightly— "  It'll  do  you 
good  and  clear  your  'ed  of  that  Minchin  stuff.  An'  you, 
Mr.  Everton, — you  ain't  'ad  no  lunch,  an'  you  must  be  right- 
down  tired — will  you  take  a  cup  ?  " 

"  Thanks  very  much — I  will," — and  Everton  turned  to- 
wards her,  to  avoid  the  pained  stare  of  Kiernan's  eyes,  and 
to  give  him  a  little  time  in  which  to  realize  the  situation. 
Kiernan  stood  for  a  moment  inert,  as  though  in  doubt — 
then,  setting  the  cup  of  untasted  tea  down  on  the  table, 
flung  himself  heavily  into  a  chair.  Mrs.  Adcott  looked  at 
him. 


38  HOLY    ORDERS 

"  Won't  you  'ave  your  tea,  Dan  ?  "  she  asked  coaxingly. 

He  made  no  answer. 

Everton  quietly  drew  another  chair  to  the  table,  and  sat 
down  opposite  to  him. 

"Better  now,  Kiernan?"  he  said  cheerily — and  nodding 
towards  the  little  doorway  which  opened  into  the  adjoining 
room  where  Mrs.  Kiernan  lay,  he  added — "  She'll  be  all 
right  in  a  day  or  two  if  you're  careful  of  her.  Her  life 
depends  on  you — of  course  you  know  that." 

"  Her  life — her  life!  "  muttered  Kiernan, — then,  with  a 
sudden  darkening  of  his  features  he  looked  full  into  Ever- 
ton's  face — "  What  I  want  to  know  is  this — how  do  you 
'appen  to  be  'ere?  What's  your  business?" 

"  My  business?"  and  the  Vicar  flushed  slightly  and  then 
grew  pale — "  My  business,  Kiernan,  is  to  treat  you  as  I 
would  treat  my  own  brother,  and  see  that  you  get  into  no' 
more  mischief." 

"  Oh,  that's  what  it  is,  is  it  ?  "  and  Kiernan  gave  a  short 
laugh  of  incredulity — "  Well,  I'm  obleeged  t'ye — an'  if  ye'll 
be  so  good  as  to  clear  out,  I'll  not  ask  ye  to  call  again!  " 

Mrs.  Adcott,  who  had  been  sweeping  up  the  hearth,  and 
was  now  putting  a  fresh  kettle  full  of  water  on  the  fire 
to  boil,  looked  round,  startled. 

"  Dan!  "  she  exclaimed — "  You  don't  mean  that!  " 

"  I  do  mean  it !  "  And  Kiernan  brought  his  fist  down 
heavily  on  the  table  with  a  fierce  blow — "  I  mean  that  this 
'ere  reverend  gentleman  'asn't  no  right  to  enter  my  'ouse 
or  sit  at  my  table  without  I  permits  'im,  an'  I  don't  permit 
'im !  An'  I  sez  to  'im  '  Clear  out ! '  an'  if  'e's  a  man  'e'll 
do  it — straight!' 

Everton  rose  quietly. 

"  All  right,  Kiernan !  " — he  said — "  I  came  as  a  friend, 
—but  I'll  go." 

"An'  the  sooner  the  better!  "  said  Kiernan,  with  a  kind 
of  angry  grin — "  What !  Do  I  pay  rent  for  a  'ouse  to  my- 
self an'  yet  can't  keep  a  busy-bodyin'  parson  out  of  it? 
Came  'ere  to  see  me  drunk,  eh?  Well,  you've  see'd  it,  an' 
I  'ope  you  liked  it!  An'  as  for  my  wife,  you've  'card  'er 
say  as  'ow  I  'aven't  'urt  'er — why  should  I  'urt  'er?  Ain't 
she  my  wife?  Why  should  I  go  to  'urt  what's  my  own? 
Do  7  sneak  up  to  your  'ouse,  Mister  Parson,  an'  see  'ow 


HOLY     ORDERS  39 

you  carries  on  when  the  doors  is  shut?  Do  /  come  in  an' 
say  to  your  missus — '  Oh,  my  pore  woman,  your  'usband's 
no  good  an'  I'm  coming  to  look  arter  ye  '  ?  No,  I  doan't ! 
An'  what  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  a-doin'  what  no  'spec- 
table  workin'-man  would  do,  all  'cos  you're  a  parson?  You 
takes  too  much  on  yerself,  Mister  Everton! — a  deal  too 
much!  an'  so  I  tells  ye  to  clear  out  o'  this  'ere  'ouse  afore  I 
makes  ye!" 

Mrs.  Adcott  stood  as  it  were  rooted  to  the  ground  in 
terror  at  the  tone  of  this  speech,  accompanied  as  it  was  by 
threatening  gestures,  but  Everton  maintained  a  perfectly 
tranquil  demeanor. 

"  You  mistake  me,  Kiernan," — he  said — "  You  mistake 
me  altogether.  But — never  mind!  Perhaps  you'll  under- 
stand better  later  on.  I'm  sorry  you  look  upon  me  as  an 
intruder, — I  had  hoped  otherwise " 

He  paused — then  took  his  hat  and  prepared  to  leave  the 
cottage. 

"  I  wish,"  he  continued,  fixing  his  brave,  clear,  keen  eyes 
on  the  drunkard's  sullen  countenance — "  I  wish  I  might, 
as  your  Vicar,  ask  you  to  make  me  a  promise." 

Kiernan  gave  a  kind  of  grunt. 

"  Oh,  ye  may  ask  anything  ye  like," — he  muttered. 

"  Well ! — don't  drink  any  more  poison  to-day," — and 
Everton,  going  fearlessly  up  to  him,  laid  one  hand  kindly 
on  his  shoulder — "  Give  me  your  word  you  won't,  and  I'll 
believe  you!  Come,  Kiernan!  As  man  to  man,  promise 
me!" 

With  a  smothered  oath  Kiernan  sprang  up  from  his 
chair  and  seemed  about  to  give  vent  to  a  torrent  of  abuse, 
— but  meeting  Everton's  steady,  appealing  gaze,  full  of  a 
sorrowful,  almost  affectionate  reproach,  his  head  drooped 
shamefacedly,  and  he  gave  a  forced  angry  laugh. 

"All  right!"  he  said — "Anythin'  for  peace  an'  quiet- 
ness! I  promise!  " 

The  friendly  hand  dropped  from  his  shoulder. 

"Thank-you!  And  to-morrow  you'll  see  things  in  quite 
a  different  light,  I'm  sure." 

Kiernan  stood  stolidly  silent,  and  Everton  with  an  en- 
couraging smile  and  nod  to  the  visibly  distressed  Mrs.  Ad- 
cott,  left  the  cottage  without  another  word,  outwardly  com- 


40  HOLY    ORDERS 

posed,  but  inwardly  sorely  troubled.  Again  he  felt  his  own 
helplessness, — again  he  questioned  himself  as  to  the  useful- 
ness or  the  utter  inefficiency  of  the  position  he  occupied. 

"  When  the  country's  press  permits  open  discussion  of  the 
'  New '  theory,— old  as  the  hills  and  false  as  the  kiss  of 
Judas — that  Christ  was  merely  a  man  like  ourselves,  what 
can  be  done  with  people  who.  are  only  to  be  held  in  check 
by  either  fear  or  love  of  the  Divine !  "  he  thought — "  And 
when  medical  men  criminally  unite  together,  under  pressure 
brought  to  bear  upon  them  by  the  beer  and  spirit  traders, 
to  pronounce  alcohol — that  curse  of  the  country — as  '  posi- 
tively beneficial '  what  can  the  workers  for  Truth  and  Right 
do?  Our  hands  are  rendered  strengthless — our  souls  dis- 
spirited — and  our  hearts,  in  the  long  and  anxious  struggle, 
are  broken ! " 

He  sighed,  and  walked  on  rapidly,  almost  unconscious  of 
the  pouring  rain.  He  had  a  faint  hope  that  Kiernan  might 
possibly  keep  his  promise — but  he  could  not  console  himself 
with  it  as  likely  to  be  a  certainty.  And  moved  by  an  im- 
pulse, which  whether  wise  or  foolish,  was  at  least  straight- 
forward and"  well-intentioned,  he  made  his  way  to  the 
smart-looking  public-house  of  the  '  model  '  half  of  the  vil- 
lage, which  was  known  by  the  name  of  the  '  Stag  and  Crow/ 
and  entered  it,  to  the  surprise  of  the  proprietor,  a  heavy- 
faced  man  with  red  hair,  who  passed  most  of  his  time  in 
reading  the  halfpenny  papers  and  airing  himself  outside  his 
door  in  his  shirt  sleeves. 

"  Can  I  speak  to  you  for  a  moment,  Mr.  Topper?  "  he 
inquired. 

Mr.  Topper  smiled  an  affable  smile. 

"  Certainly  you  can,  Mr.  Everton ! — certainly !  What 
can  I  do  for  you  this  afternoon?  It's  very  wet  for  you  to 
be  out  sure-ly!" 

"  It  w  wet," — and  Everton,  looking  in  at  the  bar,  sur- 
rounded as  it  was  with  shelves  full  of  shining  bottles  and 
glasses,  was  bound  to  admit  that,  so  far  as  outward  appear- 
ances of  comfort  were  concerned,  Topper  had  the  best  of  it 
in  bad  weather.  "  But  I've  been  visiting  Mrs.  Kiernan — 
she  got  rather  seriously  hurt  this  morning." 

"  Oh  indeed !  How  was  that?  "  and  Mr.  Topper  put  on 
an  expression  of  bland  and  sympathetic  interest. 


41 

"  Her  husband," — replied  the  Vicar,  with  a  straight 
glance — "  He  was  mad  drunk,  and  knocked  her  down." 

"  Dear,  dear !  "  and  the  placid  Topper  sighed — "  Dear, 
dear,  dear!  Very  sad — very  sad " 

"  Mr.  Topper,"  went  on  Everton  earnestly — "  It  is  very 
sad — and  very  bad.  So  sad  and  bad  is  it  that  I've  come  here 
myself  to  tell  you  that  Dan  Kiernan  is  not  in  a  fit  state  to 
he  given  any  more  drink  to-day.  I've  come  here  to  ask  you, 
as  a  friend>  to  help  me  in  preventing  him  from  getting  any 
more.  Will  you  ?  " 

Topper's  red  face  grew  redder. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean "  he  began. 

"  I  mean,"  continued  Everton — "  that  I  want  you  to  join 
hands  with  me  in  a  good  work — a  work  of  rescue.  It's 
quite  simple.  It  won't  give  you  any  trouble.  It's  only 
just  this — Don't  sell  any  more  beer  or  spirits  to  Kiernan 
to-day — if  he  comes  round  and  asks  you  for  either,  refuse 
him." 

Topper's  little  pig  eyes  glistened  almost  angrily. 

"  Mr.  Everton,"  he  said,  with  laborious  dignity — "  You 
are  evidently  not  acquainted  with  public-house  rules.  We 
are  bound  to  supply  customers  with  whatever  they  ask  and 
pay  for.  It  is  not  our  business  to  inquire  whether  a  man 
is  '  fit '  to  have  beer  and  spirits, — if  he  pays  his  money  we 
must  give  him  his  exchange." 

The  Vicar  drew  himself  up  a  trifle  more  stiffly  erect. 

"  So  that  if  a  man  is  drunk,  you  must  make  him  more 
drunken !  "  he  said  reproachfully. 

"  If  he  is  drunk  on  the  premises  and  behaves  himself  in 
a  disorderly  manner,  I  can  turn  him  out," — said  Top- 
per, with  visible  impatience — "  But  it's  no  part  of  my 
duty  to  find  out  the  exact  moment  when  he  is  drunk  or 
sober." 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  the  Vicar  warmly — "  that  Dan  Kier- 
nan is  not  in  a  fit  state  to  be  given  any  more  drink  to-day. 
If  he  gets  it,  he  is  likely  to  commit  murder." 

"  And  /  tell  you !  "  retorted  Topper,  with  equal  warmth, 
"  that  I  know  nothing  about  it  because  I  haven't  seen  him 
since  dinner-time  and  don't  want  to  see  him.  He  came  in 
here  this  morning,  and  went  away  perfectly  sober." 

Everton  looked  at  him  steadily. 


42  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  Perfectly  sober!  "  he  echoed — "  You  say  that ?  Perfectly 
sober?" 

"Perfectly  sober!"  reiterated  Topper — "I  would  swear 
to  it  before  a  magistrate,  Bible  oath !  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.     Then  Everton  spoke — 

"  If  you  swear  to  that,  you  would  swear  to  a  lie !  "  he 
said  sternly, — and  as  Topper  uttered  an  indignant  exclama- 
tion, he  raised  his  hand  with  a  commanding  gesture — "  I 
repeat — you  would  swear  to  a  lie — I,  your  Vicar,  tell  you 
so.  Make  the  best  of  it  that  you  can!  You  know  that 
Kiernan  left  your  premises  drunk, — you  know  all  about  the 
injuries  he  has  inflicted  on  his  wife,  and  you  only  pretend 
not  to  know!  Yet  to  make  a  few  extra  pence  of  profit  you 
will,  if  occasion  arises,  assist  this  wretched  man  to  poison 
himself  again,  so  that  driven  by  the  force  of  a  desperate 
delirium,  he  shall  not  know  whether  he  is  man  or  beast — 
though  no  beast  that  lives  is  so  fallen  from  self-respect  as 
a  drunkard!  You  and  your  class  might  help  to  cleanse 
the  nation  of  its  ruling  vice  if  you  would, — but  you  will 
not! — you  would  rather  see  your  fellow-creatures  die  in 
misery  and  infamy  than  abate  one  jot  of  your  gains  on  the 
accursed  drugs  you  sell !  " 

His  breath  came  and  went  quickly, — he  was  shaken  al- 
together from  his  ordinary  composure.  Mr.  Topper,  how- 
ever, was  a  man  who  rather  liked  to  anger  his  '  betters ' ; 
*  give  them  a  rub  the  wrong  way,'  as  he  himself  expressed 
it — and  the  more  justly  irritated  they  became  the  more  stolid 
was  his  own  attitude.  His  favorite  meat  was  pork,  and  his 
favorite  drink  Minchin's  cheapest  ale, — with  the  result  that 
his  physical  and  mental  composition  was  made  up  of  these 
two  baneful  ingredients.  He  smiled  tolerantly  at  what  he 
privately  called  the  Vicar's  '  temper.' 

"  I'm  sorry  you  take  it  like  that,  Mr.  Everton,"  he  said, 
with  unctuous  mildness — "  You're  very  hard  on  us  poo-r 
publicans, — you  are  indeed!  We've  got  to  make  our  little 
bit  of  money  somehow — and  if  Kiernan  didn't  take  his  glass 
at  the  '  Stag  and  Crow,'  he'd  take  it  at  the  '  Ram's  Head  ' 
— so  it  would  be  just  the  same  in  the  long-run.  And  there*s 
not  a  drop  of  harm  in  Minchin's  Fourpenny,  if  it's  taken 
steady." 


HOLY     ORDERS  43 

Everton  could  not  trust  himself  to  continue  the  discussion. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Topper,  I  have  told  you  plainly  what  I 
think," — he  said — "and  though  it's  not  always  wise  to  ex- 
press one's  thoughts,  I'm  not  sorry  for  having  done  so  on 
this  occasion.  I've  been  told  that  Dan  Kiernan  was  quite  a 
decent  fellow  before  he  came  to  Shadbrook,  where  he  cannot 
walk  from  one  end  of  the  village  to  the  other  without  pass- 
ing two  public-houses " 

"  And  why  don't  he  pass  'em?"  demanded  Topper,  with 
vehemence — "Why  does  he  come  inside?  He  isn't  pulled 
neck  and  crop  through  the  doors!  The  drink  isn't  forced 
down  his  throat!  It's  his  own  choice  and  his  own  doing. 
And  if  any  change  is  to  be  worked  in  him,  why  that's  more 
your  business  than  mine,  Mr.  Everton !  " 

Everton's  eyes  clouded  with  a  quick  sadness. 

"  You  are  right !  "  he  said  simply, — "  But  I  am  aware  of 
my  own  shortcomings.  I  can  do  very  little." 

He  said  no  more  then, — and  left  Mr.  Topper  to  his  own 
meditations,  which  were  rather  of  a  mixed  nature.  Topper, 
like  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  Shadbrook,  had  a  certain 
respect  for  the  Vicar, — but  every  now  and  again  this  respect 
was  drowned  by  a  touch  of  contempt  for  his  *  softness ' — 
the  phrase  which  so  greatly  irritated  the  Vicar's  pretty  wife. 

"  Why  don't  he  let  things  alone  and  go  easy !  "  he  thought 
now,  as  he  drew  for  himself  a  glass  of  the  '  Minchin  Four- 
penny,'  and  drank  it  down  with  infinite  gusto — "  Look  at 
Minchin  himself  now !  He's  a  standing  example  to  the  com- 
munity! He  don't  touch  a  drop  of  his  own  liquor — drinks 
nothing  but  water — and  lets  those  that  like  his  beer  have  it 
at  a  fair  price,  and  so  makes  his  money  out  of  it.  That's 
what  I  call  common  sense.  As  for  Kiernan  or  any  one  else 
getting  drunk,  that's  nobody's  business  and  nobody's  fault." 

Such  was  his  argument — the  common  argument  held  by 
most  people.  The  fact  that  one  human  being  is  always  more 
or  less  answerable  for  the  good  or  evil  affecting  his  fellow 
human  beings  is  not  realized  by  the  majority.  Each  unit 
thinks  that  its  companion  unit  stands,  or  ought  to  stand 
alone — and  it  needs  a  profound  insight,  as  well  as  a  most 
sympathetic  intelligence,  to  see  how  all  the  units  are  really 
linked  together  by  threads  of  cause  and  effect, — threads 


44  HOLY     ORDERS 

which  slowly  but  surely  weave  them  into  communities  or 
nations  which  according  to  their  national  merits,  rise  or  fall. 
One  man  influences  the  other  by  word,  thought  and  deed 
— though  every  man  disclaims  responsibility  for  his  brother 
man,  lest  it  should  bring  himself  into  trouble.  But  it  was 
the  full  consciousness  of  such  responsibility  and  the  serious 
acceptance  of  it,  that  moved  Richard  Everton  to  a  sense  of 
deep  sorrow  when  he  reflected  that  he,  a  man  of  good  edu- 
cation and  scholarship,  placed  in  a  position  of  religious  au- 
thority to  guide,  teach  and  control  those  who  were  set  under 
his  charge,  could  do  nothing — nothing  to  rescue  even  one- 
creature  obsessed  by  the  demon  of  Drink!  And  he  tramped 
through  the  village  wearily,  his  face  growing  almost  haggard 
under  the  pressure  of  vexatious  feeling,  wondering  whether 
he  should  or  should  not  risk  a  call  at  the  '  Ram's  Head  * 
— which  dominated  the  other  half  of  Shadbrook,  and  see  if 
he  could  lodge  a  warning  there. 

"  But  I  shall  only  get  the  same  answer  if  I  do," — he 
thought — "  I  shall  be  told  I  have  no  business  to  interfere — 
and,  after  all,  that's  true  enough !  My  business  is  '  only  * 
the  saving  of  souls  for  Heaven, — but  apparently  I  may  not 
hinder  souls  from  going  to  Hell  through  drink,  inasmuch 
as  their  loss  is  gain  to  the  national  revenue!  " 

So  he  mused,  conscious  of  his  own  bitter  feeling,  yet  un- 
able to  look  at  the  position  in  any  other  light.  He  was 
within  a  few  steps  of  the  '  Ram's  Head  '  public-house,  and 
he  brought  himself  to  a  sudden  standstill  hesitating  as  to 
whether  he  should  enter  it  or  not.  In  a  moment  of  inde- 
cision, a  tall  girl  with  a  lithe,  graceful  figure,  and  a  shawl 
flung  carelessly  over  her  head,  came  out  and  faced  him  with 
a  smile. 

"  Rather  a  wet  afternoon,  sir!  "  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her  silently.  Something  in  his  straight 
glance  confused  her,  for  she  colored  crimson.  Then  the 
deep  blush  slowly  faded,  leaving  her  pale,  yet  still  smiling 
— and  she  lifted  her  head  with  an  air  of  haughty  self-asser- 
tion as  though  she  sought  to  express  the  fact  that  not  only 
was  she  beautiful,  but  that  she  well  knew  the  power  of  her 
beauty.  Everton  understood  her  gesture — he  had  seen  it 
often.  Jacyntfa  Miller  did  not  spare  him  any  more  than  she 
spared  other  men.  A  clergyman  was  n,  ni«rc  t*  her  than  a 


HOLY     ORDERS  45 

day-laborer, — she  was  willing  to  make  fools  of  both,  and  she 
knew  that  her  physical  charms  exercised  a.  strange  and  not 
always  propitious  influence  upon  the  male  sex  generally. 
Certainly  no  one  save  the  most  jaundiced  and  spiteful  of 
critics  could  have  denied  that  she  was  perfectly  lovely.  An 
artist  would  have  delighted  to  draw  the  exquisite  oval  of  her 
face,  and  to  paint  the  dark  liquid  luster  of  her  eyes,  fringed 
as  they  were  by  long,  silky  upcurling  lashes,  and  over- 
arched by  the  most  delicately  penciled  well-shaped  brows. 
Her  mouth,  rosy  as  a  pomegranate,  seemed  framed  for  the 
utterance  of  sweet  words, — and  her  tiny  even  teeth,  white 
as  milk,  made  her  look  enchanting  when  she  smiled  as  she 
was  smiling  now. 

'  Jacynth !  "  said  the  Vicar  gravely — "  Were  you  in 
there?" 

"In  where?" 

He  pointed  to  the  '  Ram's  Head.' 

"  You  know  what  I  mean," — he  said,  his  voice  shaking 
a  little — "  You  are  only  a  girl,  Jacynth — the  public-house 
is  no  place  for  you " 

She  gave  a  little  shrug. 

"  Oh,  don't  worry  about  me,  Mr.  Everton ! "  she  re- 
torted, "I'm  all  right!  I  can  take  care  of  myself." 

He  said  nothing  for  a  moment. 

She  looked  at  him  curiously  and  with  a  touch  of  com- 
passion. 

"You're  wet  through,  Mr.  Everton!  " 

"  Am  I  ?  "  he  answered  wearily — "  I   didn't  know  it !  " 

She  moved  a  step  or  two  closer,  with  a  fascinating  air  of 
gentle  penitence — 

"  I  haven't  been  drinking,  Mr.  Everton," — she  said  in 
a  low  tone — "I  haven't  really,  sir!"  Here  she  raised  her 
wonderful  eyes  to  his  face — "  I  wouldn't  vex  you  for  the 
world, — I  know  you're  set  against  the  drink,  and  I'd  like 
to  please  you " 

"  Would  you  indeed,  Jacynth ! "  and  he  shook  his  head 
doubtfully — "  Well! — perhaps  you  would!  I  don't  know!  " 

"  I  would — I  would,  really!"  and  Jacynth  gazed  at  him 
with  a  sweet  frankness  that  startled  him — "  What  do  you 
want  me  to  do?  " 

With  a  kind  of  nervousness  he  recoiled  from  her, — why, 


46  HOLY     ORDERS 

in  Heaven's  name,  he  thought,  had  this  girl  been  made  so 
bewitchingly  beautiful  that  no  man — not  even  the  strongest, 
— could  look  at  her  without  admiration? 

"  I  want  nothing  of  you,  Jacynth," — he  said,  with  studied 
coldness — "  except  more  steadiness  of  character.  You  say 
you  were  not  drinking — God  grant  you  were  not!  If  you 
really  wished  to  please  me,  you  would  be  kinder  and  more 
thoughtful  of  others — others  whom  you  have  wronged — 
Bob  Hadley,  for  example " 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Bob  ?  "  she  asked,  putting  back 
her  shawl  a  little  more  from  her  face,  and  by  accident  or 
design  showing  the  luxuriant  twists  of  her  rich  brown  hair 
plaited  on  her  head  in  the  form  of  a  coronal. 

"  He  is  dying  " — said  the  Vicar,  gently — "  And  he  wants 
to  see  you  again.  He  loved  you  very  much,  Jacynth!  " 

"  I'm  afraid  he  did!  "  she  murmured,  with  a  quick  sigh 
•-"  I  couldn't  help  it!  Could  I?  " 

She  lifted  her  eyes  again,  with  a  flashing  coquetry  in  their 
radiant  depths.  He  gave  a  slight  gesture  of  annoyance. 

"  You  need  not  have  encouraged  him," — he  said  stiffly — 
"  You  led  him  on  to  believe  you  would  marry  him " 

"  Marry  him !  "  She  laughed.  "  I  ?  I  shall  never  marry 
any  one  in  Shadbrook!  " 

He  looked  at  her,  vaguely  perplexed.  Here  was  a  creature 
endowed  with  magnificent  physical  health  and  superb  beauty 
— a  girl  of  radiant  loveliness  in  the  full  morning  of  her 
womanhood — were  all  her  powers  of  charm  and  conquest  to 
be  limited  to  Shadbrook?  Involuntarily  he  found  himself 
asking  the  same  question  for  her  as  he  had  asked  for  himself 
' — "  Is  she  to  pass  all  her  life  in  Shadbrook?  " 

Suddenly  she  spoke  again. 

"  I've  heard  all  about  the  row  this  morning," — she  said 
— "  Dan  Kiernan  nearly  killed  his  wife.  And  I'll  tell  you 
one  thing,  Mr.  Everton — he  shan't  get  any  more  drink  to- 
day. I'll  prevent  that!  " 

The  Vicar's  face  cleared,  and  he  was  conscious  of  a  great 
relief. 

"  Will  you  ?    But  how  can  you  ?  " 

Jacynth  nodded   mysteriously. 

"Leave  it  to  me!  I'll  manage  him!"  Her  little  teeth 
gleamed  again  like  pearls  between  the  red  of  her  lips. 


HOLY     ORDERS  47 

"  He's  a  fierce  brute,  is  Dan  Kiernan!  But  I  can  keep 
him  in  order!  " 

Everton  was  too  keen  a  man  not  to  perceive  that  there 
was  some  circumstance  underlying  her  words  with  which 
he  was  not  acquainted.  He  was  a  little  troubled — but 
forbore  to  press  inquiry  for  the  moment. 

"  Well — if  you  have  any  influence  over  him," — he  said  at 
last,  hesitatingly — "  you  will  be  doing  a  kindness  to  his  wife 
as  well  as  to  himself  if  you  can  keep  him  away  from  the 
public-house.  He  gave  me  his  promise  that  he  would  not 
drink  any  more  to-day " 

"  His  promise  isn't  worth  a  penny!"  said  Jacynth,  con- 
temptuously— "  I  don't  believe  any  man  alive  knows  what  a 
promise  means!  But  I'll  see  he's  all  right.  And — as  you 
wish  it,  Mr.  Everton !  I'll  go  and  see  Bob  Hadley." 

He  smiled — and  his  kind  eyes  lightened.  He  took  her 
hand  gently  in  his  own  and  pressed  it. 

"  That's  right,  Jacynth ! "  he  said—"  I  shall  be  proud  of 
you  yet!  " 

She  flushed  a  little, — then  laughed,  perking  up  a  lovely 
rounded  white  chin  from  the  folds  of  her  shawl. 

"  I  hope  you  will !  "  she  said. 

"  I'm  sure  I  shall!  You'll  be  the  best  girl  in  the  village 
before  long !  " 

An  odd  quiver  passed  over  her  face — she  grew  suddenly 
very  white.  She  drew  her  shawl  more  closely  round  her 
head,  completely  hiding  the  beautiful  hair  she  had  before 
been  proud  to  try  and  show. 

"  It's  going  to  rain  all  day,  I  think," — she  said,  evasively 
— "  Do  get  home  as  quick  as  you  can,  Mr.  Everton — you  are 
so  wet, — I'm  sure  you'll  catch  cold." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  afraid  of  that! "  laughed  the  Vicar,  cheer- 
ily— "  I'm  seasoned  to  all  weathers.  But  as  you  seem  to 
think  you  can  answer  for  Kiernan's  good  behavior " 

"  I  can !  "  she  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Well,  that's  a  great  weight  off  my  mind — and  I'm  much 
obliged  to  you,  Jacynth," — here  he  lifted  his  hat  to  her — 
"  But  if  there's  any  more  trouble  with  him,  be  sure  you  send 
for  me,  won't  you  ?  " 

"Yes — oh  yes — I'll  be  sure!  "  and  Jacynth  smiled  again 
— "  Good-afternoon,  Mr.  Everton !  " 


48  HOLY    ORDERS 

"  Good-afternoon !  "  he  replied — and  with  a  kindly  nod, 
he  turned  away  from  her  and  walked  rapidly  up  a  little 
by-lane,  which  was  a  short  cut  out  of  the  village,  and  led 
almost  directly  to  the  Vicarage.  The  girl  Jacynth  stood 
for  a  few  moments  watching  him  till  he  was  out  of  sight, 
with  a  kind  of  angry  wonder  in  her  large  dark  eyes.  Then 
she  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"Poor  devil!"  she  said  half  aloud — "He  wants  to  be 
good — and  to  make  me  good  too !  And  he's  only  a  man !  " 

She  gave  an  eloquently  contemptuous  gesture  with  her 
whole  body — a  shrug  and  a  writhe  in  one. 

"  Only  a  man !  "  she  repeated — "  And  every  man  is  just 
the  same  wherever  a  woman's  concerned! — strong  or  weak, 
plain  or  handsome,  married  or  single — they're  all  the  same 
fool  quality! " 

Folding  her  shawl  tightly  round  her  shoulders,  she  ran 
with  the  speed  and  lightness  of  an  Atalanta  over  the  bridge 
which  divided  old  Shadbrook  from  new,  towards  Kiernan's 
cottage,  her  tall  figure  vanishing  like  a  dark  blur  in  the 
driving  rain. 

The  Vicar  himself,  happily  unconscious  of  the  disparaging 
criticism  passed  upon  his  sex  by  her  whom  he  vainly  hoped 
one  day  to  call '  the  best  girl  in  the  village/  reached  his  own 
dwelling  with  considerable  thankfulness.  In  his  mind  he 
was  perfectly  aware  that  he  had  done  little  or  no  good  by 
playing  sentinel  over  Kiernan's  drunken  slumbers,  and  he 
met  his  wife's  pretty  inquiring  expression  and  querying 
monosyllable  of  ".Well?"  with  a  practical  statement  con- 
cerning himself. 

"  I'm  wet  through,  Azalea, — let  me  run  upstairs  and 
change,  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  Kiernan  will  do  no 
more  harm  to-night,  I  think." 

"  That's  a  comfort,  I'm  sure! "  and  Azalea  gave  a  de- 
cisive nod  of  her  dainty  head — "  You  poor  dear  Dick !  You 
are  in  an  awful  state!  Simply  soaked!  Go  and  change 
everything  at  once!  There's  a  nice  fire  in  your  study — 
we'll  have  tea  there,  and  we  can  talk !  " 

And  in  less  than  quarter  of  an  hour  husband  and  wife 
were  seated  opposite  each  other — a  daintily  spread  tea-table 
between  them,  glistening  with  wedding-gift  silver  and  wed- 
ding-gift china,  on  which  the  firelight  shed  a  rosy  sparkling 


HOLY    ORDERS  49 

glow,  in  pleasant  contrast  to  the  deepening  gloom  of  the 
outside  garden  view  and  the  miserable  weather. 

"  I  met  Jacynth  Miller  in  the  village," — said  Everton, 
then,  stretching  out  his  weary  feet  to  rest  on  the  fender 
in  the  warmth  of  the  fire — "  She  told  me  she  would  see 
that  Kiernan  got  no  more  drink  to-day.  And,  Azalea,  I 
really  think  the  girl  has  some  heart  after  all, — she  has 
promised  me  to  go  and  visit  poor  Bob  Hadley." 

Azalea,  busy  with  the  teapot,  gave  him  a  quick  glance, 
— then  her  face  lighted  up  with  a  dimpling  smile. 

"And  you  believe  her,  Dick?  You  actually  believe  her! 
Oh!" 

The  amount  of  meaning  which  the  charming  little  woman 
managed  to  convey  into  that  '  Oh ! '  could  not  be  expressed 
in  words.  Richard  was  conscious  of  a  slight,  very  slight 
sense  of  irritation. 

"Of  course  I  believe  her,"— he  said,— "  Why  should  I 
not  believe  her?  Even  a  bad  girl  may  be  sorry  for  her 
badness  and  may  wish  to  be  better,— don't  you  think  so?  " 

"  Oh,  of  course!  "  and  Azalea,  poising  a  lump  of  sugar 
aloft  in  the  sugar-tongs,  looked  at  it  critically  as  though 
it  were  something  quite  curious  and  new — "  Of  course, 
Dick,  she  may  wish  to  be  better — but  I  think — I  really  do 
think  that  in  the  case  of  Jacynth,  it's  so  unlikely !  " 

Everton  was  silent.  He  was  annoyed  by  his  wife's  ex- 
pression of  opinion — but  he  did  not  wish  to  betray  his 
annoyance  by  any  hasty  word  or  look.  Moreover,  his  vex- 
ation was  twofold, — he  not  only  considered  that  Azalea  was 
unjust  in  her  remark,  but  he  knew  within  himself  that  Ja- 
cynth's  beauty  had  for  the  moment  cast  a  glamour  over  him 
which  would  need  to  be  shaken  off  before  he  could  consider 
her  generally  questionable  reputation  in  a  properly  dis- 
passionate light. 

"You  will  at  any  rate  admit  that  it's  kind  and  plucky 
of  her  to  look  after  Kiernan  so  that  he  doesn't  do  any  more 
mischief?  "  he  asked — "  It's  not  a  pleasant  thing  for  a  young 
girl  to  keep  guard  over  a  drunkard !  " 

Azalea  poured  out  the  tea  carefully. 

"No,  dear,  it  isn't!"  she  murmured — "But  I  thought 
you  had  managed  all  that." 

His  brow  clouded,  and  he  sighed  wearily. 


50  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  I  ?  I  can  manage  nothing !  "  he  said,  sorrowfully — 
"  I  sat  with  Kiernan  till  he  woke — and  then — then — well ! 
— it's  hard  to  say  it,  but  I  may  as  well  tell  you — then 
he  ordered  me  out  of  his  house.  And,  of  course,  I  had  to 

go." 

Azalea's  blue  eyes  opened  wide. 

"You— had— to— go!"  she  echoed— "  Oh,  Dick!  How 
could  you  ?  " 

"  How  could  I  stay?"  he  retorted — "  My  dear  child,  no 
man  has  a  right  to  stay  in  another  man's  house  against  that 
other  man's  will.  Unless  he's  a  '  man  in  possession  '  " — 
and  he  laughed  a  little — "  As  long  as  Kiernan  pays  his  rent, 
he's  master  of  his  own  roof-tree,  and  he  is  not  called  upon 
to  either  welcome  or  entertain  an  uninvited  guest " 

"  But — a  clergyman — the  Vicar  of  the  parish "  she 

exclaimed  distressfully. 

"  Not  even  a  clergyman  has  the  right  to  stay  in  a  parish- 
ioner's house  if  he  is  told  to  go," — he  said  quietly — "  There's 
a  great  deal  of  harm  done  by  district  visiting,  and  by  the 
thrusting  of  religious  tracts  on  people  who  don't  want  to 
read  them.  When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  Azalea,  it's 
the  height  of  impertinence  for  any  man,  or  woman  either, 
to  walk  into  a  house  and  offer  advice  to  persons  who  haven't 
asked  you  for  it." 

Azalea's  pretty  eyebrows  went  up  in  perplexity. 

"I  can't  understand  you,  Dick!"  she  said — "Isn't  it 
just  what  you've  done  to-day?  Haven't  you  been  all  this 
time  with  Kiernan — and  gone  without  your  lunch  and  got 
wet  through,  and  made  everything  quite  uncomfortable, — 
and  now  you  say  you  oughtn't  to  have  done  it !  " 

He  smiled,  amused  at  the  muddle  she  chose  to  make  of 
the  position. 

"  No,  Azalea,  I  don't  say  I  ought  not  to  have  done  it 
in  this  case  " ; — he  said — "  Kiernan  was  infuriated  with 
drink — and  I  feared  that  he  might  attack  his  poor  wife  a 
second  time.  Had  he  shown  signs  of  doing  so,  I  should  have 
been  there  to  prevent  it.  But  he  woke  partially  sobered,  and 
I  think  sorry  for  his  violence — at  any  rate  he  treated  his 
wife  very  gently  when  he  saw  how  ill  she  was.  That  being 
the  case,  I  was  not  wanted.  I  should  have  liked  to  talk 
to  him  a  little — but  he  was  not  in  the  humor.  I  did  ask  him 


HOLY     ORDERS  51 

to  promise  me  not  to  take  any  more  drink  to-day — and  he 
promised " 

"And  told  you  to  go!"  finished  Azalea  indignantly — 
"The  horrid  brute!  And  you  went!  Oh,  Dick!  What  a 
dreadful  loss  of  dignity  for  you!  " 

Everton's  gravity  gave  way  at  this,  and  he  laughed  joy- 
ously with  all  the  heartiness  of  a  boy. 

"  Dreadful! "  he  agreed — "  Positively  awful!  I  was  like 
a  beaten  hound — or  rather  more  like  a  drowned  rat — when 
I  met  Jacynth  Miller." 

Azalea  pursed  her  pretty  red  lips  together. 

"  Where  did  you  meet  her?  "  she  asked. 

Everton  hesitated. 

"  Well," — he  said,  at  last — "  I'm  sorry  to  say  she  was 
just  coming  out  of  the  '  Ram's  Head.' " 

His  wife  looked  whole  volumes  at  him. 

"  And  yet  you  really  think  she  may  wish  to  be  a  better 
girl!  "  she  ejaculated — "  You  really  think  so!  " 

His  face  grew  suddenly  serious. 

"  I  will  not  say  I  really  think  so," — he  answered — "  But 
I  really  hope  so !  " 

A  silence  followed.  Azalea  glanced  at  him  now  and  then 
In  a  somewhat  perturbed  way — and  once  or  twice  her  lips 
moved  as  though  she  wished  to  say  something — but  she 
checked  herself  with  an  effort.  He  was  quietly  enjoying  his 
tea — and  if  she  knew  any  item  of  parish  news  that  might 
have  worried  him,  she  was  not  going  to  trouble  him  with  it 
just  then.  She  took  out  a  dainty-looking  piece  of  silk  em- 
broidery and  began  to  work  at  it  with  swift  noiseless 
stitches.  She  made  a  very  pretty  picture  seated  in  her  low 
easy  chair  by  the  fire,  and  her  husband's  eyes  rested  upon 
her  with  fond  admiration.  The  glowing  beauty  of  Jacynth 
Miller  faded  from  his  memory  like  the  brief  blaze  of  a 
showy  firework  fading  in  mid-air,  and  a  sense  of  deep  tran- 
quillity soothed  his  mind.  After  all,  he  thought,  why  should 
he  not  be  perfectly  content  with  his  life  at  Shadbrook? 
Why  should  he  dream  of  wider  fields  of  labor?  If  his  power 
was  insufficient  to  persuade  one  drunkard  to  abandon  his 
drunkenness,  why  should  he  imagine  himself  capable  of  in- 
fluencing a  larger  and  more  intelligent  audience?  To  re- 
form one  man  thoroughly  would  be  a  better  piece  of  work 


52  HOLY,    ORDERS 

than  to  try  to  reform  hundreds — and  if  he  failed  in  the 
smaller  task,  he  was  bound  to  fail  equally  in  the  larger. 
He  ought,  so  he  assured  himself,  to  be  perfectly  satisfied 
with  the  position  he  occupied, — he  had  a  comfortable  liv- 
ing,— a  delightful  home,  and  a  pretty  wife  and  child, — his 
domestic  bliss  was  perfect,  and  he  was  sole  monarch  of 
his  little  kingdom  with  just  such  limitations  and  oppositions, 
on  a  lesser  scale,  as  all  monarchs,  whether  spiritual  or  tem- 
poral, have  to  contend  with.  There  was,  in  strict  reason, 
nothing  that  should  make  him  either  restless  or  dissatisfied* 
Shadbrook  was  his  God-appointed  place  in  the  world, — 
"  and  I  must  not,"  he  said  to  himself — "  regard  it  as  too 
narrow  a  field  of  labor.  There  is  plenty  to  be  done — and 
I  am  bound  to  try  and  do  it." 

At  that  moment  his  wife  spoke. 

"How  was  Jacynth  Miller  looking?"  she  asked  sud- 
denly. He  started  out  of  his  reverie. 

"  Jacynth  ? — How  was  she  looking  ?  Just  the  same  as 
usual;  very  beautiful." 

Azalea's  needle  flew  swiftly  again  like  a  gleam  of  light 
over  her  embroidery,  and  she  asked  no  more  questions. 


CHAPTER   IV 

'T'HE  next  day  the  clouds  had  somewhat  cleared,  and  a 
1  pale  tearful-looking  sun  struggled  to  shine  through 
fleecy  trails  of  mist  which,  rising  from  the  oozy  lowlands, 
spread  themselves  in  thin  gray  filaments  through  the  valleys 
and  hung  doubtfully  in  air  as  they  reached  the  summit  of 
the  hills.  There  was  a  latent  possibility  of  fine  weather, 
according  to  some  sagacious  remarks  proffered  by  the  oldest 
inhabitants  of  Shadbrook — a  venerable  gentleman  who,  like 
the  wooden  mannikin  in  a  certain  make  of  Swiss  clock,  only 
hopped  outside  his  door  when  the  barometer  rose,  and 
promptly  hopped  back  again  when  it  fell.  Old  '  Mortar ' 
Pike — '  Bricks  and  Mortar  '  as  he  was  sometimes  good- 
humoredly  but  irreverently  called  by  a  few  of  his  acquaint- 
ances— was  allowed  considerable  license  in  the  utterance 
of  his  opinions  on  all  matters  good,  bad  or  indifferent, 
not  only  because  nobody  minded  what  he  said,  but  also  be- 
cause he  was  in  his  ninety-second  year,  and  as  he  himself 
was  wont  to  remark:  "  If  a  man  ain't  to  jabber  a  bit  when 
he's  nigh  on  a  'undred,  when  is  he  to  jabber  at  all  any- 
way?" This  argument  was  held  to  be  wholly  unanswer- 
able ;  he  therefore  '  jabbered  '  to  his  heart's  content,  and  he 
had  almost,  if  not  quite  forgotten  the  long-long-long  ago, 
when  as  stalwart  Mortimer  Pike,  he  had  been  a  celebrated 
wrestler  and  football  player — renowned  for  his  feats  of 
strength  through  the  whole  Cotswold  district.  Sometimes, 
if  any  one  ventured  to  remind  him  of  those  bygone  days, 
the  flicker  of  a  smile  would  pass  over  his  brown  and  deeply 
wrinkled  visage  and  he  would  wave  away  the  reminiscence 
as  though  it  were  a  midge  buzzing  in  his  ear. 

"Ay,  ay!"  he  would  murmur — "  Mebbe  I  was  a  sharp 
youngster — mebbe  I  worn't.  Them  as  knows  can  tell  one 
from  t'other!" 

This  was  an  oracular  utterance,  not  always  comprehen- 
sible to  the  untutored  rustic  min'd — but  it  was  '  Mortar's 

53 


54  HOLY     ORDERS 

way ' — so  his  neighbors  said — Mortar's  way  of  dismissing 
any  subject  he  did  not  care  to  talk  about.  As  a  rule,  how- 
ever, he  was  very  fond  of  talking — so  much  so  that  if  he 
had  no  one  else  to  talk  to,  he  talked  to  himself.  Clad  in  a 
neatly  stitched  gray  linen  smock-frock,  with  a  straw  hat 
which  he  had  made  with  his  own  hands,  pressed  well  down 
over  his  rather  long  straggling  white  hair,  and  leaning  on 
a  stout  stick  with  a  shepherd's  crook  handle,  his  figure  was 
a  picturesque  and  familiar  part  of  the  life  of  Shadbrook, 
and  to  see  him  '  jabbering '  at  the  threshold  of  his  cottage, 
was  like  the  sign  of  the  wooden  mannikin  in  the  Swiss 
clock,  an  augury  of  what  the  villagers  called  '  a  spell  o' 
sunshine.'  And,  in  accordance  with  the  Swiss  clock  theory, 
he  had,  on  this  particular  morning,  just  popped  out,  and 
now  stood  peering  up  and  down  the  village  street  with  a 
kind  of  half-cunning,  half-childish  curiosity,  the  while  he 
murmured  under  his  breath — 

"  Marnin'  gray,  fine  day !  Ay,  ay !  The  wet'll  keep  air" 
— it'll  keep  aff  a  bit — an'  mebbe  at  dinner-time  we'll  have 
a  bit  o'  blue  sky.  A  bit  o'  blue  sky!"  Here  he  smiled 
and  chuckled.  "  It'll  do  a  power  o'  good — a  power  o'  good 
it  will !  Nothin'  like  a  bit  o'  blue !  " 

At  that  moment  a  woman  came  out  of  the  neighboring 
cottage  to  shake  a  small  much  worn  hearth-rug.  It  was 
Mrs.  Moddley,  the  same  lady  with  whom  the  Vicar  had 
held  such  serious  converse  respecting  the  irreligious  tenden- 
cies of  her  son. 

"Mornin',  Mr.  Pike!"  she  said  cheerily — "Out  early 
y'are.  Wonderful  active  for  your  time  o'  life!  How's  you 
feelin'?" 

"  Fine!  "  responded  the  veteran — "  Never  better!  I  thinks 
I'm  a-gittin'  younger  as  I  gits  older.  If  it  worn't  for  my 
legs " 

"Ah,  it's  the  legs  as  gives!  "  and  Mrs.  Moddley  with  a 
resigned  sigh  shook  a  volume  of  dust  out  of  her  hearth-rug 
which,  blowing  towards  poor  old  '  Bricks  and  Mortar  '  got 
into  his  nose  and  eyes  and  caused  him  to  sneeze  violently. 
"  And  why  the  Lord  made  us  with  legs  which  is  ever  bound 
to  give,  /  don't  know!  A  little  extra  muscle  an'  strength 
put  in  to  make  'em  last  longer  wouldn't  'ave  upset  no  one  in 
the  'eavenly  'ost  I'm  sure!  When  my  second  boy  Teddy, 


HOLY     ORDERS  55 

as  is  gone  but  seven,  kicks  out  'is  legs  in  'is  bath  an'  sez  'e 
don't  want  no  washin',  I  sez  to  myself,  bless  'im,  let  'im 
kick  while  'e  can  an'  upset  all  the  water,  for  the  days 
is  comin'  when  'e'll  be  that  stiff  an'  roomaticky  as  'e  can't 
kick  no  more,  so  don't  be  'ard  on  'im  now!"  Here  she 
shook  the  hearth-rug  again.  "  Is  your  gran '-darter  lookin* 
arter  ye? — or  will  I  bring  ye  in  something  for  breakfast?  " 

The  old  man  raised  a  trembling  hand  to  his  straw  hat, 
and  taking  it  off  waved  it  with  an  air  of  speechless  courtesy. 

"Thank-ye,  thank-ye  kindly! — my  gran'-darter  does  all  I 
want,"  he  answered.  "  She's  a  good  gel — she  don't  let 
me  miss  nothin' — thank-ye  all  the  same " 

Here  he  broke  off — a  little  startled  at  the  sudden  sight 
of  Jacynth  Miller,  who  came  sauntering  round  a  corner 
and  strolled  up  to  him  in  a  casual  way,  nodding  and 
smiling. 

"  Hello,  Bricks  and  Mortar,  how  are  you?  "  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her,  but  did  not  answer. 

"  I've  been  up  all  night,"  she  went  on,  addressing  herself 
more  to  the  air  than  to  either  of  her  listeners — "  Taking 
care  of  Mrs.  Kiernan." 

"  Oh,  indeed !  "  and  Mrs.  Moddley  gave  a  kind  of  sniff 
— "  Did  she  know  who  it  was  bein'  so  suddint  kind  to  'er  ?  " 

Jacynth  laughed,  and  yawned. 

"No— I  don't  think  she  did!" 

Mrs.  Moddley  turned  round  and  went  into  her  cottage, 
giving  her  door  a  slight  bang  as  she  closed  it.  Jacynth 
laughed  more  loudly. 

"  She's  shut  me  out !  "  she  said,  stretching  her  arms  in- 
dolently and  yawning  again — "As  if  I  wanted  to  go  in! 
You  wouldn't  shut  me  out,  would  you,  Mortar  dear?" 

The  old  man  held  up  his  hand  in  a  kind  of  feeble  expos- 
tulation. 

"  Shut  ye  out — shut  ye  out !  "  he  mumbled — "  My  gel,  if 
ye  go  on  as  ye're  goin'  ye'll  be  shut  out  altogether,  not  onny 
on  the  yerth,  but  in  'Eaven !  Ye  be  doin'  those  things  which 
ye  oughtn't  to  do  an'  ye  knows  it.  Ye  poor  mis'able  gel,  go 
an'  tell  parson  what  ye're  at! — make  a  clean  breast  of  it — 
an'  God  'elp  ye!" 

Jacynth  rested  her  two  hands  on  her  hips  and  looked  at 
him  with  an  indulgent  scorn. 


56  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  You  old  fool ! "  she  said,  "  You're  behind  your  time, 
Mortar!  God  helps  those  that  help  themselves!  " 

With  a  smile  that  parted  her  red  lips  in  a  line  of  incom- 
parable sweetness,  she  moved  away.  The  old  man  thrust  out 
a  shaking  hand  and  caught  her  by  her  sleeve. 

"  Where's — where's  Dan  Kiernan  ?  "  he  stammered. 

She  flashed  her  dark  laughing  eyes  over  him  compas- 
sionately. 

"  Where's  Dan  ?  With  his  wife,  of  course !  Where  should 
he  be?"  ^ 

Humming  a  tune  she  sauntered  on,  and  as  she  went,  the 
sun  came  out  with  a  flare  of  gold,  shedding  a  radiance  across 
her  path  as  though  she  were  some  favored  goddess  of  the 
morn.  The  old  man  shaded  his  eyes  from  the  sudden 
brilliancy. 

"  A  bit  o'  blue !  "  he  muttered — "  I  said  there'd  be  a  bit  o' 
blue !  But,  there's  more  clouds  comin'  by-an-bye — more  dark 
clouds  comin' !  " 

A  woman's  voice  called  him  from  his  cottage  just  then, 
and,  turning  away  from  the  street,  he  tottered  indoors. 

The  '  bit  o'  blue '  widened  in  the  sky,  and  the  hanging 
vapors  began  to  roll  up  and  disappear, — a  thrush  warbled  a 
hopeful  strain  among  the  leafless  boughs  of  an  ancient  elm 
tree  which  occupied  a  prominent  position  near  the  middle  of 
the  village  street,  and  a  genial  sense  of  brightness  began  to 
warm  and  illumine  the  atmosphere.  Up  at  the  Vicarage  this 
cheering  gleam  of  sunshine  was  sufficient  to  put  the  Vicar's 
light-hearted  wife  in  the  best  of  spirits — she  laughed,  she 
chattered,  she  sang — she  played  with  baby  Laurence  like  a 
baby  herself,  and  succeeded  for  more  than  the  thousandth 
time  in  creating  around  her  that  particular  bedazzlement  of 
gayety  and  charm  which  not  only  delighted  her  husband,  but 
also  in  a  sense  '  muddled  '  him, — though  he  would  have  been 
the  last  man  in  the  world  to  admit  such  an  expression  as  in 
any  way  befitting  the  situation.  Nevertheless,  it  was  a  fact 
that  sometimes  when  he  heard  Azalea's  rippling  laugh  and 
her  oft-repeated  cry  of  "  Oh,  Baby  dear !  "  to  her  infant 
son, — and  also  when  he  caught  echoes  of  her  voice  singing 
those  '  coon  '  songs,  which,  as  base  imitations  of  genuine  nig- 
ger melodies,  are  so  much  in  vogue  with  an  age  whose  very 
sentiment  is  only  part  of  its  sham,  he  was  apt  to  put  his  hand 


HOLY     ORDERS  57 

to  his  head  in  rather  a  perplexed  way,  and  make  an  effort  to 
collect  his  thoughts  lest  they  should  become  scattered  too 
far  for  logical  and  reasonable  concentration  on  any  given 
subject. 

It  was  sweet  to  hear  Azalea  laugh, — sweet,  too, 
was  her  little  caressing  exclamation  of  "  Oh,  Baby  dear !  " 
— even  the  imitation  '  coon  '  songs  had  their  fascination — 
but — and  the  big  '  but '  that  came  in  here  could  not  be  got 
over  easily.  It  was  a  But  that  impeded  action,  like  a  stone 
wall  in  the  way  of  a  chariot  race.  And  yet  he  could  not 
have  put  into  exact  words  why  the  '  But '  should  so  obtrude 
itself.  Surely  he  did  not  want  Azalea — bright,  brilliant, 
pretty  Azalea, — to  be  serious  and  puritanical?  No, — most 
certainly  not, — any  such  change  in  her  he  would  have  re- 
garded with  a  real  concern,  as  indicative  of  failing  health. 
Yet,  to  be  quite  frank  with  himself,  he  owned  to  his  inner 
consciousness  that  there  was  something  he  missed  in  his  life, 
— but  what  it  was  he  could  not  tell.  And  he  set  his  feeling 
down  to  his  own  great  selfishness  and  ingratitude,  and 
blamed  himself  heartily  for  these  two  most  unbecoming  and 
unworthy  sins. 

"  Hundreds  of  men  would  gladly  change  places  with  me," 
— he  thought — "  Poor  curates  working  in  the  East  End  of 
London — missionaries  exiled  from  home  and  country,  work- 
ing among  hostile  peoples  for  the  cause  of  Christ — even 
country  parsons,  many  of  them  clever  men,  utterly  cast  away 
in  villages  more  obscure  than  Shadbrook, — any  or  all  of  these 
would  be  glad  if  they  could  be  as  I  am.  I  cannot  understand 
my  own  restlessness — it  is  a  foolish  state  of  mind  of  which 
I  am  heartily  ashamed." 

And  he  was  more  than  usually  affectionate  to  his  wife  when 
she  came  to  him,  dressed  in  a  neat  dark  blue  serge  costume, 
with  a  fascinating  little  turned-up  felt  hat  to  match,  and 
stated  with  a  small  sigh  that  she  was  now  going  to  visit  Mrs. 
Kiernan. 

"  I  think  the  weather  has  quite  cleared," — she  said — "  and 
I've  got  my  thickest  boots  on,  so  I  shan't  get  my  feet  wet. 
It's  no  good  taking  anything  to  read  to  her,  is  it,  Dick?  I'm 
such  a  bad  reader !  " 

He  laughed,  and  slipping  an  arm  round  her  waist  looked 
at  her  with  indulgent  tenderness. 


58  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  You  don't  like  doing  this  sort  of  thing,  I'm  afraid,  dar- 
ling,"— he  said. 

"  Not  very  much," — she  admitted,  with  a  demure  uplifting 
of  her  blue  eyes — "  You  see  the  people  themselves  don't 
always  like  it,  unless  they're  very,  very  fond  of  you.  I  don't 
think  they're  a  bit  fond  of  me!  I'm  sure  they're  not!  I  ought 
to  be  different — quite  different,  to  really  please  them !  " 

"  In  what  way?  "  he  asked,  still  smiling. 

"  Well,  to  begin  with,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  talk  about 
horrid  things — quite  horrid  things!  "  she  said  with  a  comical 
earnestness — "  Illnesses  and  funerals,  for  instance.  They 
love  those!  Now  Mrs.  Linaker  she  has  a  bad  leg — you 
know  she  has! — well,  she  likes  to  talk  about  it,  and  she  will 
talk  about  it,  oh  ever  so  long!  She  tells  you  when  it  began 
to  be  bad — and  how  it  went  on,  and  how  it  is  now, — and  I 
a*o  try  to  be  interested,  but  I  cant!  And  Mrs.  Paterson  was 
quite  pleased  when  she  heard  that  Mrs.  Dunn's  eldest  son 
had  died — she  really  was!  She  said  that  he  had  six  silver 
spoons  and  one  picture — and  she  wondered  how  the  spoons 
would  be  divided,  and  who  would  get  the  picture.  And  when 
I  asked  her  what  the  picture  was  like,  she  said  she  didn't 
think  it  was  like  anybody  in  particular — it  was  just  a  man 
and  a  cow  in  a  sunset,  but  it  had  been  in  the  family  a  long 
time !  "  Azalea  stopped  to  laugh — then  with  twinkling  eyes 
she  went  on — "  And  really,  Dick,  I  am  so  silly  with  these 
people!  I  never  know  what  to  say  to  them!  Because  I 
think  it  perfectly  detestable  to  count  up  silver  spoons  when 
a  poor  man  is  lying  dead, — and  it  seems  to  me  just  awful  to 
dwell  on  bad  legs  and  funerals.  And  then  there  are  the 
babies ! — oh  dear !  "  Here  she  paused  and  grew  suddenly 
reflective — "  Of  course  I  ought  to  be  immensely  interested 
in  them,  having  one  of  my  own — but  I  don't  think  I've  got 
the  real  mother-spirit — no,  don't  laugh,  Dick! — I  really 
don't  think  I  have,  because  .all  the  women  in  the  village  talk 
quite  differently  about  babies  to  the  way  /  talk !  " 

Everton  was  amused. 

"  Well,  of  course ! "  he  said,  "  you  can't  expect  them  to 
have  your  pretty  little  fancies,  can  you?  Their  lives  are 
different,  to  begin  with, — and  it's  wonderful — yes,  when  you 
come  to  think  of  it,  it  is  wonderful  that  there  should  be  so 
much  deep  sentiment  and  real  tenderness  among  them, — you 


HOLY     ORDERS  59 

know  they  often  love  their  children  much  more  than  people 
in  our  class  do " 

Azalea,  opened  her  eyes  very  wide  at  this. 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure !  " — she  declared — "  no  one  could  possibly 
love  any  baby  more  than  I  love  mine !  " 

"  No,  dear,  I  didn't  say  any  one  could," — and  Everton 
checked  a  slight  sigh — "  But  you  spoke  of  the  mother-spirit 
— and  you  said,  or  you  implied,  that  the  women  in  the  village 
had  a  different  feeling  about  it  to  yours; — now  I  think  it  is 
just  the  same  beautiful,  divine  spirit,  only  by  different  na- 
tures it  is  expressed  differently." 

She  puckered  her  brows  in  a  little  line  of  perplexity. 

"  That  sounds  like  poor  dear  Dad, — dreadfully  solemn 
and  learned," — she  said — "  But  what  I  mean  is  that  the  vil- 
lage women  talk  about  all  the  unpleasant  little  matters  con- 
nected with  babies," — and  she  shook  her  head  at  him  very 
sagaciously ;  "  Because,  of  course,  there  are  unpleasant  things, 
— things  that  are  not  always  nict  and  clean  to  talk  about, — 
well,  those  things  are  just  what  the  village  mothers  love  to 
discuss  by  the  hour!  And,  of  course,  your  business  is  to  look 
after  the  souls  of  the  children,  Dick; — but  their  mothers 
don't  really  care  a  bit  about  that ! — what  they  think  about  all 
the  time  are  their  stomachs!" 

He  put  his  two  hands  on  her  shoulders  and  looked  down 
smilingly  into  her  eyes. 

"  Come,  come,  Azalea! — have  ive,  even  we,  thought  much 
as  yet  of  the  soul  of  our  wonderful  baby  Laurence?  " 

She  colored  a  little — then  laughed. 

"Oh,  but  Baby's  too  young! — too  tiny  altogether!"  she 
said — "  It  would  be  nonsense  to  talk  about  his  poor  little 
soul— —" 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  and  he  loosened  his  gentle  hold  of  her — 
"Well,  I'm  not  quite  sure  about  that,  Azalea!  I  think  I 
often  see  a  Soul — neither  little  nor  poor — looking  out  of 
Laurence's  big  blue  eyes — a  Soul  so  pure  and  sweet  that  I 
tremble  at  my  own  responsibility  for  its  security  in  this 
world!" 

He  spoke  with  such  grave  earnestness  that  she  was  a  little 
abashed.  A  silence  fell  between  them.  Then,  after  a  minute 
or  two  she  said  in  a  meek  small  voice — > 

"  I  think  I'd  better  go  now." 


60  HOLY    ORDERS 

"  To  see  Mrs.  Kiernan  ?  Yes ! — do  go,  while  the  weather 
keeps  fine  " — he  answered,  affectionately — "  It  won't  take  you 
much  time,  because  of  course  you  mustn't  stay  long  with 
her, — she's  not  well  enough  for  that.  I  daresay  you'll  meet 
Doctor  Harry — if  so,  just  ask  him  if  she's  going  on  all  right." 
'Azalea  nodded  submissively,  and  left  the  room.  Her  hus- 
band went  to  the  window  and  watched  her  tripping  along 
on  the  dainty  high-heeled  shoes  which  she  called  her  '  thickest 
boots,'  over  the  sodden  gravel  of  the  garden  paths,  till  her 
pretty  figure  disappeared  behind  a  screen  of  laurel  bushels, — 
then  he  seated  himself  at  his  desk  to  work. 

"  Poor  little  woman !  "  he  murmured  tenderly, — "  It  must 
be  rather  dull  for  her  here  sometimes.  She  ought  to  have 
married  a  millionaire — not  a  poor  country  clergyman!  She 
was  made  for  the  graceful  pleasures  and  gayeties  of  the 
world — not  for  the  plain  routine  of  ShadbrooL,  Yet  Love 
is  said  to  make  even  a  desert  blossom  like  the  rose — and  I 
think  she  loves  me — I'm  sure  she  does!  God  knows  I  love 
her, — more  than  my  life!  "j 

In  this  assertion  he  used  no  exaggeration, — it  was  the  exact 
and  simple  truth.  His  nature  was  deeply  affectionate  and  the 
garrulities  and  ecstasies  of  a  Romeo  were  worth  nothing  as 
compared  with  the  intense  and  faithful  passion  of  this  quiet 
self-contained  man  whose  love  was  not  for  '  the  uncertain 
glory  of  an  April  day,'  but  for  all  time,  and — as  he  hoped 
and  devoutly  believed — for  all  eternity  as  well.  If  some  pro- 
found Thinker,  versed  in  the  strange  occultism  of  human 
sympathies,  had  pointed  out  to  him  that  an  eternity  passed 
with  Azalea's  little  butterfly  soul  might  possibly  be  insuffi- 
cient to  satisfy  all  his  stronger  immortal  aspirations,  he  would 
have  been  grieved  and  indignant.  For  one  of  the  finest  at- 
tributes of  true  love  is,  that  it  sees  no  limitations  and  no 
imperfections  in  the  beloved  object.  Thanks  to  this  gentle 
blinding  power,  he  was  unable  to  look  too  far  into  the  future 
save  with  those  imaginative  eyes  which  always  behold  im- 
possibly beautiful  things  destined  never  to  be  realized,  but 
which  in  their  visionary  prospect  serve  to  charm  and  stimu- 
late the  mind,  keeping  it  patient  and  hopeful  while  '  that 
Divinity  which  shapes  our  ends '  prepares  our  hardest  and 
most  needful  lessons.  Perhaps  if  he  could  have  seen  Azalea 
sitting  by  the  bedside  of  the  unhappy  Mrs.  Kiernan,  with 


HOLY     ORDERS  61 

her  pretty  little  face  set  primly  in  a  line  of  rigid  offense, 
and  her  whole  attitude  expressive  of  uncompromising  virtue, 
he  might  have  felt  a  certain  misgiving  as  to  whether  she  was 
really  endowed  with  that  delicate  and  sure  instinct  which  he 
fondly  fancied  was  the  special  qualification  of  her  woman's 
nature, — an  instinct  fine  enough  to  know  when  pity  is  re- 
sented and  advice  unwelcome,  and  therefore  wisely  forbear- 
ing to  proffer  either.  In  most  village  communities  the  un- 
invited visits  of  the  clergyman's  wife  or  the  '  district  lady ' 
are  regarded  by  the  working-classes  with  considerable  dis- 
favor,— and  when  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  there  is  really 
something  very  grossly  impertinent  in  the  idea  that  because 
a  man  or  woman  is  poor  and  lives  in  a  small  cottage,  he  or 
she  is  therefore  to  be  considered  a  prey  to  interfering  '  Church 
people,'  who  thrust  their  inquiring  noses  into  homes  that  do 
not  belong  to  them,  and  ask  questions  of  a  personal  nature 
on  matters  which  are  none  of  their  business.  One  wonders 
how  Mr.  Millionaire  would  like  it  if  the  wife  of  the  Rev- 
erend Mr.  Peek-a-Bo  walked  into  his  palatial  residence 
unasked  and  said : — "  I  hope  you  keep  your  rooms  clean  and 
tidy!  Remember  cleanliness  is  next  to  godliness!  "  or — 
"  You  must  read  your  Bible  every  day,  my  good  man !  Let 
me  leave  you  this  little  Tract  on  the  '  Vanity  of  Riches ' !  " 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  no  clergyman's  wife  and  no  district  vis- 
itor would  dare  to  so  insult  a  rich  man.  Then  must  the 
poor  man  be  insulted,  simply  because  he  is  poor?  Does 
wealth  alone  hold  the  key  to  the  Church's  respect?  If  so, 
then  the  Second  Coming  of  Christ  will  be  the  Church's 
annihilation ! 

Fortunately  for  herself  pretty  Mrs.  Everton  did  not  take 
this  point  of  view  at  all  into  her  consideration.  She  was  the 
Vicar's  wife;  and  in  that  position  felt  that  her  visits  to  the 
parishioners  were  necessary.  Whether  the  parishioners  liked 
her  presence  in  their  houses,  she  did  not  pause  to  inquire. 
When  she  entered  Mrs.  Kiernan's1  cottage  she  half  expected 
to  see  the  master  of  it,  the  redoubtable  Dan  himself, — but 
he  was  not  there,  and  Mrs.  Adcott,  still  at  her  post  as  nurse 
to  her  suffering  neighbor,  stated  that  "  he'd  bin  gone  to  his 
day's  work  since  six  in  the  mornin'." 

"  I  bope  he  was  sober/' — said  Azalea,  severely. 

*  Oh  yes,  ma'am,  he  was  quite  sober.     He's  a  fine  man 


62      ,  HOLY     ORDERS 

when  he's  all  right,  is  Dan — it's  only  the  drink  as  drives  him 
wild.  Jacynth  Miller  sat  up  with  him  'ere  all  night,  an'  he's 
bin  as  quiet  as  a  lamb !  " 

Azalea  gave  a  little  gasp. 

"  Jacynth  Miller!  "  She  bit  her  lips  as  though  to  keep  in 
some  imminent  expression  of  thought  from  rash  utterance, — 
and  then  she  hurriedly  entered  the  adjoining  room  where 
Mrs.  Kiernan  lay.  The  sight  of  the  sick  woman  in  her  bed, 
pale  and  motionless,  rather  frightened  Azalea, — and  she 
hung  back,  awed  by  the  aspect  of  the  still  face  on  the  pillow 
with  the  closed  eyes  and  the  grayish  brown  hair  swept  back 
from  the  hollow  temples, — it  was  a  counterfeit  resemblance 
or  image  of  death  which  was  not  pleasant  to  contemplate. 
At  last, — 

"  Mrs.  Kiernan," — she  murmured,  in  a  nervous  little 
voice,  "  I  came  to  see  how  you  were — I  do  hope  you're 
better—" 

Mrs.  Kiernan  opened  her  eyes,  and  for  a  moment  stared 
bewilderedly.  Then  a  faint  smile  brightened  her  pallid 
features. 

"It's  Mrs.  Everton,  is  it?"  she  whispered,  weakly — 
"  Thank'ee,  ma'am,  I'm  better — much  better — I'll  soon  be 

about  again "  Here  her  eyelids  drooped,  and  she  moaned 

wearily. 

Azalea  took  a  chair  and  sat  down  by  the  bedside. 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  badly  hurt," — she  said — "  That  dread- 
ful husband  of  yours  is  very  cruel  to  you." 

Mrs.  Kiernan 's  eyes  opened  again  quickly. 

"My  'usband!"  she  echoed— "  Dan  ?  Dan  cruel?  Oh 
no,  ma'am !  Don't  you  believe  it !  Dan's  the  best  man  ever 
woman  'ad, — there's  no  one  like  Dan  in  this  world  to  me !  " 

Azalea  gave  a  little  shrug  of  impatience. 

"  How  can  you  say  such  a  thing !  "  she  continued — "  Why 
he  has  knocked  you  about  most  wickedly!  Look  how  ill 
you  are!  And  yet  you  say  he's  the  best  man  ever  woman 
had!" 

"  So  he  is,  when  he's  away  from  the  drink,  ma'am," — and 
Mrs.  Kiernan,  moved  by  a  sudden  energy,  lifted  herself  up  a 
little  on  her  pillows.  "  And  'e  didn't  mean  to  'urt  me — I 
knew  he  didn't !  But  e'd  'ad  one  glass  on  top  of  t'other,  an' 
'is  poor  'ed  was  all  a-swimmin'  like,  an'  'e  struck  out  at  the 


HOLY     ORDERS  63 

first  thing  'e  saw,  which  'appened  to  be  me — an'  arter  all  I 
should  a-know'd  better  than  to  stand  in  'is  way.  That's  all, 
ma'am;  an'  if  you'll  tell  Mr.  Everton  that  Dan's  all  right 
I'll  be  real  glad,  for  I  wouldn't  'ave  the  Vicar  o'  the  parish 
think  ill  of  'im— — " 

Her  voice  failed  her  and  tears  stood  in  her  eyes.  Azalea 
was  sorry  for  her,  but  at  the  same  time  remained  more  or 
less  unconvinced. 

"  I  can't  understand  you  at  all!  "  she  said,  perplexedly — 
"It  seems  to  me  so  strange  that  you  should  care  for  a  man 
like  that " 

"  It  shouldn't  seem  strange  to  you,  ma'am,  you  bein'  a 
wife  an'  mother  yourself," — and  Mrs.  Kiernan  let  her  head 
sink  gently  back  again  on  her  pillow-^"  No  man's  ever  like 
the  man  you've  loved  day  and  night  an'  been  everythin'  to 
in  body  an'  soul.  An'  if  ye'd  seen  Dan  in  'ere  last  night, 
comin'  back'ards  an'  for'ards,  waitin'  on  me  'and  an'  foot  an' 
doin'  all  'e  could  for  me,  you'd  a-said  what  a  kind  'art  'e  'ad 
for  all  'is  little  faults  o'  drink  an'  temper.  An'  'e  sent  Mrs. 
Adcott  away  'ome  to  rest  'erself,  for  she  was  fair  tired  out, 
poor  thing,  an'  'e  got  one  of  the  village  gels  in  to  'elp,  an'  sat 
up  all  night  in  the  next  room,  watchin'  an'  waitin'  lest  I 
should  want  for  anythin' " 

"  One  of  the  girls  of  the  village  came  in  to  help,  you  say," 
— and  Azalea  looked  at  her  with  gravely  compassionate  eyes 
— "  Do  you  know  which  girl  it  was?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  don't," — and  Mrs.  Kiernan  sighed — "  I 
was  that  sleepy  an'  wore  out  that  it  was  no  matter  to  me  who 
came  or  went  so  long  as  Dan  was  by." 

"  It  was  Jacynth  Miller," — said  Azalea — "  She  sat  up 
here  with  your  husband  all  night.  And  you  actually  didn't 
know  it!  Oh!  " — this  exclamation  was  uttered  with  shocked 
impressiveness — "  I  call  it  perfectly  shameful! " 

Mrs.  Kiernan  turned  her  eyes  wonderingly  round  upon 
her  visitor. 

"  I  don't  quite  follow  ye,  ma'am," — she  said,  in  tremulous 
accents — "What's  the  shameful  part  of  it?" 

"  Oh  well !  "  and  Azalea  gave  a  kind  of  hopeless  gesture 
with  her  neatly  gloved  little  hands — "  You're  too  ill  to  talk 
just  now — but  when  you're  better  you  really  ought  to  know 
exactly  how  things  stand — you  really  ought " 


64  HOLY    ORDERS 

"  I'm  quite  able  to  hear  anything  as  I  ought  to  know  now, 
ma'am," — and  Mrs.  Kiernan  anxiously  watched  Azalea's 
pretty  face  that  looked  so  young  and  kind  and  expressive  of 
a  thoughtful  spirit — "  An'  it's  better  you  should  say  just 
what's  in  your  mind  rather  than  have  me  worritin'  like  <  •  " 

Azalea  began  to  feel  a  little  nervous. 

"  Oh  no,  you  really  mustn't  be  worried," — she  said,  with  a 
delightful  unconsciousness  of  having  already  prepared  the 
way  for  worry — "  I  didn't  think — I'm  sorry  I  spoke " 

"  So  am  I,  ma'am,  if  you  don't  go  on  speakin'," — answered 
Mrs.  Kiernan,  with  sudden  energy — •"  An'  ye'll  oblige  me 
more  than  I  can  say  if  ye'll  just  tell  me  plain  what  it  is  you're 
meanin'  in  the  way  that's  shameful " 

Azalea  thought  a  moment,  the  color  coming  and  going  in 
her  delicate  cheeks,  and  her  heart  beating  a  little  more 
quickly  than  usual.  She  had  done  mischief  without  intending 
it, — she  had  started  an  uneasiness  in  Mrs.  Kiernan's  mind, 
and  she  had  not  the  tact  to  allay  the  misgivings  which  her 
thoughtless  words  had  excited.  She  felt  rather  afraid  of  the 
poor  bruised  and  beaten,  yet  loving  and  faithful  woman — 
nevertheless  there  was  a  struggling  under-sense  in  her  of' 
outraged  propriety, — that  resistless  emotion  which  so  often 
possesses  the  minds  of  clergymen's  wives,  and  leads  them  to 
say  and  to  do  the  most  cruel  and  uncharitable  things,  not 
out  of  any  intentional  unkindness,  but  simply  because  they 
are  personally  pricked  by  the  hedgehog  bristles  of  a  virtue 
so  aggressive  and  opinionated  as  to  be  almost  vice. 

"  Yet  after  all," — she  inwardly  considered — "  Mrs.  Kier- 
nan is  not  a  woman  of  such  very  sensitive  feeling!  If  she 
were,  she  wouldn't,  she  couldn't  take  her  husband's  brutal 
conduct  so  quietly !  I  don't  suppose  anything  he  does  would 
surprise  her.  The  common  people  look  on  these  sort  of 
things  so  differently!" 

Alas,  poor  Azalea!  She  knew  nothing  at  all  of  the  special 
point  of  view  taken  by  the  '  common  '  people.  She  would 
have  been  surprised,  possibly  offended,  had  she  been  told  that 
the  '  common  '  moral  sense  is  more  poignant  because  more  in- 
stinctive, and  that  the  '  common  '  passions  are  more  powerful 
because  more  primitive, — and  that,  therefore,  the  '  view  '  of 
things  social  is  often  straighter,  saner  and  cleaner  among 
*  common  '  folk  than  among  over-cultured,  hot-house  sped- 


HOLY     ORDERS  65 

mens  of  '  high-class '  humanity.  At  last  she  spoke,  though 
a  trifle  hesitatingly: 

"  Well  I  do  think  it's  shameful  that  Jacynth  Miller  should 
have  been  sitting  up  with  your  husband  all  night  in  your  own 
house  and  in  the  very  room  next  to  you  " — here  her  voice 
grew  stronger  with  her  excess  of  indignation — "  For,  of 
course,  he  was  only  pretending  to  be  anxious  about  you  and 
sorry  for  you  that  you  might  have  no  suspicions.  You  poor 
thing!  Don't  you  know?" 

Mrs.  Kiernan  sat  suddenly  upright,  and  put  her  thin 
work-worn  hands  to  her  head  in  a  bewildered  way. 

"  God  'elp  me!  "  she  muttered — "  Don't  I  know — what?  " 

"  Why,  what  half  the  village  knows," — said  Azalea,  des- 
perately— "  Oh,  it  is  really  so  difficult  to  tell  you !  I  thought 
the  Vicar  was  the  only  one  who  did  not  guess  the  truth,  he's 
so  simple  and  good! — and  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  break 
it  to  him  somehow,  because  it  is  disgraceful! — and  now  you 
are  just  as  bad — nobody  seems  to  have  given  you  the  least 
hint " 

Mrs.  Kiernan  feebly  caught  her  by  the  arm. 

"  Tell  me — tell  me,  quick!  "  she  gasped — "  It's  cruel 
keepin'  me  like  this — it's  cruel!  What's — what's  wrong?" 

"  It's  all  wrong!  "  and  Azalea,  rather  scared  by  the  dis- 
traught agony  on  the  sick  woman's  face,  shook  up  the  pillow 
and  tried  to  make  her  lie  down — "  Now  do  rest  comfortably ! 
— you  can't  make  things  any  better  by  worrying  yourself  1 
It's  all  wrong — nothing  could  be  worse — at  least  not  in  my 
opinion — and  if  you  will  know  it,  it  is  just  this,  that  your 
husband  is  perfectly  crazy  about  Jacynth  Miller — he  meets 
her  every  day  when  he  leaves  his  work,  and  they're  always 
seen  about  together — always! — and  now  they've  actually 
passed  the  whole  night  together  under  your  own  roof — and 
you  ill  and  knowing  nothing  about  it!  Why,  it's  simply 
dreadful! — don't  you  see  how  dreadful  it  is?" 

The  poor  creature's  mouth  quivered,  and  large  tears  welled 
up  in  her  tired  eyes. 

"  No,  ma'am ! — it's  not  dreadful  to  me," — she  said,  bravely 
choking  back  the  emotion  that  threatened  to  overwhelm  her 
strength — "Because — because  I  don't  believe  it!" 

"You  don't  believe  it?"  exclaimed  Azalea — "You  don't 
believe  me?  " 


66  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  No,  ma'am !  Not  if  your  happy  face  was  the  face  of  an 
angel  from  heaven,  I  wouldn't  believe  the  lie  you're  tellin' 
me!  It's  a  poor  thing  for  a  parson's  wife  to  pick  up  all  the 
gossip  runnin'  in  a  village  an'  take  it  for  gospel — an'  there's 
nothin'  against  my  'usband  that  I'll  hear  from  ye,  ma'am, 
though  you're  a  lady,  an'  I'm  only  a  poor  workin'  woman." 

Her  breath  caught  in  a  half  sob,  but  she  struggled  with 
herself  and  went  on — 

"  My  Dan's  as  true  as  steel  to  me,  ma'am — and  it's  only 
Minchin's  stuff  as  alters  'im  a  bit  now  an'  then.  An'  as  for 
Jacynth  Miller,  Dan  knows  as  well  as  we  all  knows,  that 
she's  a  waif  an'  stray  without  father  nor  mother  an'  only  an 
old  dodderin'  auntie  as  doesn't  care  what  becomes  of  'er,  an* 
there's  a  devil  in  the  poor  gel  as'll  only  be  got  out  by  pain 
an'  sorrow.  She'll  get  all  her  troubles  soon  enough,  for 
'andsome  looks  brings  evil  deeds — so  if  my  Dan's  kind  to  'er 
a  bit  now  and  agin,  I'm  not  for  grudgin'  it." — Here  her 
voice  broke  in  a  sudden  plaintive  wail  and  she  gave  vent  to 
a  passionate  burst  of  weeping,  burying  her  face  in  the  pillow 
and  crying  weakly — "  Oh,  Dan,  my  man!  You  couldn't  be 
false  to  me !  No,  not  you,  Dan !  " 

Azalea  was  speechless  and  utterly  dismayed.  Who  would 
have  thought  a  '  common  '  woman  would  have  taken  the 
suggestion  of  her  husband's  infidelity  like  this  ?  An  educated 
lady  would  have  behaved  quite  differently,  and  would  have 
shown  the  indignation  and  scorn  necessary  for  the  assertion 
of  her  own  proper  pride.  Azalea  herself,  for  example,  if  she 
had  heard  that  her  Richard  was  '  carrying  on,'  as  the  vulgar 
phrase  puts  it,  with  another  woman,  she  would  have  left  him, 
— yes,  she  was  quite  sure,  so  she  said  to  herself,  that  she 
would  have  left  him.  She  would  never  have  forgiven  him! 
The  '  common  '  woman's  way  of  loving  was  totally  beyond 
her.  She  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it.  She  stood  by  the 
bedside,  helplessly  unable  to  proffer  any  sympathy  or  con- 
solation, and  she  began  to  feel  rather  sorry  for  herself.  Then 
she  took  refuge  in  the  ever-standing  stronghold  of  feminine 
inconsistency. 

"  It's  always  the  way! "  she  thought — "  If  you  want  to 
help  these  kind  of  people  you  must  never  tell  them  anything 
that  will  really  be  for  their  good.  They're  not  a  bit  pleased ! 
I  did  hope  I  might  be  able  to  save  the  poor  thing  from  being 


HOLY     ORDERS  67 

deceived  any  more — but  it's  no  use !  She  believes  in  her  hus- 
band and  merely  thinks  me  a  liar!  " 

Her  cheeks  burned  with  offense  at  this  idea,  and  while  she 
yet  hesitated  as  to  whether  she  should  speak  again,  or  take 
an  abrupt  departure,  Mrs.  Adcott  appeared  in  the  doorway 
and  beckoned  to  her. 

"  Better  come  away  now,  ma'am," — she  said  rather  tartly; 
"  You've  said  enough." 

Azalea  moved  a  few  steps — then  paused — 

"  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Kiernan!  " — and  she  waited  for  an  an- 
swer, but  none  came — "  I  do  hope  you'll  soon  be  all  right." 

With  this  she  stepped  daintily  into  the  adjoining  kitchen 
where  Mrs.  Adcott  confronted  her.  The  little  brown-faced, 
wrinkled,  hard-working  woman's  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  I'm  sorry,  ma'am,"  she  said  tremulously — "  I'm  right- 
down  sorry  as  you  should  'ave  said  anythin'  to  Jennie  Kier- 
nan about  Dan's  goings  on  with  Jacynth  Miller.  We  was  all 
for  hidin'  of  it  till  everythin'  was  well  got  over."  Here  she 
wiped  her  eyes  with  her  apron.  "  It'll  kill  Jennie,  it  will !  " 

Azalea  was  completely  taken  aback  for  a  moment.  Then 
she  rallied  herself  with  a  pretty  stateliness,  indicative  of  the 
usual  '  offended  virtue.' 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  touch  of  haugh- 
tiness— "  You  know  that  it  is  impossible  that  such  a  wicked 
thing  can  go  on  in  this  parish  without  everybody  knowing 
it — and  everybody  does  know  it,  except  the  poor  deceived 
wife  herself " 

"  And  the  Vicar,  ma'am,  your  good  'usband — he  don't 
know  it,"  said  Mrs.  Adcott,  trembling  a  little — "  For  he's 
that  kind  an'  gentle  as  he  don't  suspect  'arm  in  no  man  an' 
no  woman  either.  An'  we  was  all  in  a  band  like,  to  try  and 
manage  so  as  he  should  never  know, — an'  that  it  shouldn't 
be  a  worrit  to  'im,  an'  one  of  us  was  goin'  to  take  Jacynth 
away  by-and-bye — an'  nobody  would  a  bin  a  bit  the 
wiser " 

"  Then  you  were  all  in  a  plot  to  deceive  the  Vicar! "  in- 
terrupted Azalea,  indignantly — "  Just  to  screen  a  bad  girl 
and  a  wicked  drunken  man !  Oh !  It's  most  dreadful!  And 
you  come  to  church  and  take  Communion !  What  an  awful 
thing!" 

"  It  may  seem  awful  to  you,  ma'am," — and  Mrs.  Adcott 


68  HOLY     ORDERS 

raised  her  keen  shrewd  gray  eyes,  and  fixed  them  steadily  on 
Azalea's  crimsoning  face — "  For  you  see  you're  a  lady,  an' 
you're  young  an'  'appy,  and  well  cared  for — an'  you're  not 
supposed  to  know  the  ins  an'  outs  of  sorrows  an'  sins.  Dan's 
a  bad  man, — I'd  rather  say  he's  a  good  man  spoilt  by  the 
drink,  an'  he's  got  no  'old  now  over  'imself  at  all, — an'  he's 
as  mad  for  Jacynth  as  he  is  for  Minchin's  poison.  There 
ain't  no  'elp  for  it — no  one  can  hold  'im — an'  the  gel  her- 
self 'ull  go  to  any  man  good  or  bad — that's  'er  nature.  An' 
we  poor  folks  sees  'ow  it  is,  an'  we  makes  the  best  of  a  bad 
business — an'  all  we  sez  is,  let's  try  to  save  the  wife  as  ain't 
done  no  'arm — an'  keep  the  parson  quiet  so  as  'e  shan't  fret 
hisself  over  it.  An'  now  you  comes  an'  tells  Jennie — • — " 

"  How  could  I  prevent  myself  telling  her !  "  exclaimed 
Azalea,  with  some  excitement — "  Especially  when  you  said 
her  husband  had  sat  up  all  last  night  with  Jacynth  Miller  in 
this  very  kitchen,  and  she,  poor  deceived  thing! — lying  ill  in 
the  next  room!  And  you  left  them  together! — You  actually 
went  home  and  left  them  together!  " 

"  Dan  put  me  out," — said  Mrs.  Adcott  quietly — "  An'  if 
I  'adn't  gone,  'e'd  a  throw'd  me  out.  He  was  sober  enough 
— but  'e  was  wild  to  be  with  Jacynth.  She  came  up,  smilin' 
at  'im  innocent-like,  an'  said  she'd  promised  parson  to  take 
care  of  'im.  An'  I  knew  she'd  keep  'im  from  the  drink — an' 
there  couldn't  be  no  more  'arm  done  than  was  done  al- 
ready  " 

Azalea  stared — her  cheeks  alternately  flushing  and  paling. 

'  You  mean "  she  began. 

"  I  mean  that  Jacynth's  got  into  trouble  with  Dan," — said 
Mrs.  Adcott — •"  An'  that  it's  no  good  cryin'  over  spilt  milk. 
An'  as  I  told  ye,  ma'am,  we  was  goin'  to  get  Jacynth  quietly 
out  o'  the  village  presently — an'  Jennie  would  never  'ave 
known — nor  parson  neither " 

"And  you  would  have  deceived  everybody!"  Azalea's 
eyes  sparkled  with  indignation  as  she  said  this — "  You  were 
all  in  a  positive  conspiracy  to  hide  this  dreadful  thing  from 
your  own  Vicar,  and  you  didn't  think  it  wrong?  " 

Mrs.  Adcott  sighed  a  little. 

"  No,  ma'am," — she  confessed  at  last — "  I'm  afraid  none 
of  us  thought  it  wrong.  You  see  we've  all  liked  Jennie  Kier- 


HOLY     ORDERS  69 

nan;  an'  we  wanted  to  spare  'er  more  sorrow  an'  cryin', 
seein'  she's  'ad  'er  share." 

Azalea  was  silent.  The  position  was,  to  her,  quite  terrible 
and  incomprehensible.  Here  was  a  hopelessly  bad  girl  '  in 
trouble '  (according  to  the  common  and  significant  expres- 
sion) with  a  hopelessly  bad  man — and  yet  a  whole  village 
was  apparently  sworn  to  silence  about  it  on  account  of  the 
pain  it  would  cause  to  the  bad  man's  suffering  wife!  Was 
there  ever  anything  more  '  unnatural '  ?  Where,  she  asked 
herself,  was  the  morality  of  these  people?  Where  indeed! 
Where  the  Christianity?  Stop! — Christianity  was  an  un- 
comfortable, an  awkward  suggestion.  Perhaps — only  per- 
haps, of  course — the  conspiring  villagers  had  a  vague  concep- 
tion— or  shall  we  say  misconception? — of  Christ's  words — 
"  If  ye  forgive  not  men  their  trespasses,  neither  will  your 
Heavenly  Father  forgive  you  your  trespasses."  But  it  was 
all  wrong — all  very  wrong! — so  Azalea  vaguely  repeated  to 
herself  over  and  over  again,  the  while  Mrs.  Adcott  stood 
looking  at  her  in  a  curious,  half-imploring,  half-resentful 
way,  wondering  what  this  pretty,  bright-eyed,  golden-haired 
clergyman's  wife  was  thinking  of  Shadbrook  and  its  people. 
And  it  was  Mrs.  Adcott  who  first  spoke  again. 

"  I  suppose,  ma'am,  ye'll  be  tellin'  the  Vicar  all  about  it 
now," — she  said,  and  her  lips  trembled — "  An'  if  ye  do,  I'm 
afraid  there'll  be  trouble !  " 

"  I'm  sure  there  can  be  no  more  trouble  than  there  is  al- 
ready,"— Azalea  answered,  very  coldly — "  Naturally  I  do 
not  intend  to  keep  anything  a  secret  from  my  husband.  He 
ought  to  know  of  this  wretched,  shameful  scandal  in  his 
parish — and  of  course  he  will  deal  with  it  in  the  proper 
way." 

Mrs.  Adcott's  eyes  brimmed  over  again. 

"  Might  I  ask  ye,  ma'am,  to  wait  a  day  or  two — just  till 
Jennie's  better  an'  able  to  bear  it  like  ?  For  if  Dan  gets  any 
blame — or  Jacynth  either, — he'll  visit  it  all  on  Jennie.  Oh, 
ma'am,  you  don't  know! — you  don't  know!  You  can't  tell 
what  it  is  to  see  a  man  like  Dan  blind  with  drink  an'  love  for 
a  gel,  both  together — with  no  sense  in  'im  to  'ear  reason  an' 
no  thought  o'  what  he's  doin', — it's  worse  than  'avin'  a  mad 
brute  beast  to  deal  with — it  is,  ma'am,  God  knows  it  is!  If 


70  HOLY     ORDERS 

ye'll  just  wait  a  day  or  two  before  speakin',  it'll  be  better  for 
Jennie  an'  better  for  all  of  us — it'll  be  a  real  mercy  ye're 
showin',  an'  God'll  bless  ye  for  it ! " 

It  was  impossible  not  to  feel  touched  by  the  simple  earnest- 
ness of  this  poor  woman,  whose  pleading  for  the  better  com- 
fort of  her  sick  neighbor  was  so  perfectly  unselfish  and  ten- 
der,— and  Azalea,  being  an  affectionate  little  thing  in  her 
way,  was  not  entirely  without  sentiment.  She  took  Mrs. 
Adcott's  hand  in  her  own  and  patted  it. 

"  You  are  a  very  kind  woman," — she  said — "  And  I 
promise  you  I'll  not  mention  anything  to  the  Vicar  till  Mrs. 
Kiernan  is  quite  well.  But  then — well,  then  something 
must  be  done." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  and  perhaps  God'll  show  us  'ow  to  do  it  " — 
murmured  Mrs.  Adcott  tearfully — "  For  it's  'ard — it's  ter- 
rible 'ard  to  'ave  a  man  like  Dan  Kiernan  to  manage, — 
there's  a  good  many  as  goes  mad  on  the  drink,  but  none  of 
'em  is  as  mad  as  he,  an'  there's  often  such  times  with  'im  as 
I've  never  seen  with  any  livin'  soul,  whether  drunk  or  sober. 
You  don't  know  a  bit  what  he's  like — 'tain't  nat'ral  as  you 
should,  bein'  a  lady  livin'  well  out  of  'arm's  way  an'  safe 
with  a  good  'usband  o'  your  own, — but  for  us  poor  women 
it's  like  'avin'  the  devil  let  loose  when  Dan  Kiernan's  at  his 
worst." 

Azalea  gave  a  little  movement  of  impatience  and  disgust. 

"  He's  a  brute! "  she  said  decisively. 

"  He  worn't  always  a  brute," — and  Mrs.  Adcott  gave  a 
regretful  sigh — "  Afore  'e  came  to  Shadbrook  I've  'card  tell 
'e  was  a  fine  workman  somewheres  down  by  Tewkesbury 
way.  But  'e  thought  to  better  hisself  by  comin'  up  'ere 
where  Squire  Hazlitt  gives  good  wages  for  farm-work — an' 
of  course  'ere  'e  finds  two  publics  as  'andy  to  'is  mouth  as  the 
village  pump  and  'andier,  an'  so  'e  goes  from  good  to  bad 
as  easy  as  a  child  tumblin'  downstairs.  It's  the  drink,  ma'am 
— it's  nothin'  but  the  drink  as  is  the  curse  o'  the  whole  vil- 
lage." 

Azalea  shrugged  her  graceful  shoulders  and  raised  her 
pretty  eyebrows  as  one  who  despised  the  contemptible  weak- 
ness of  the  whole  human  race.  But  she  said  nothing  on  the 
subject,  simply  because  she  knew  very  well  there  was  noth- 
ing to  say.  The  '  Drink  Question '  was  and  is  one  of  those 


HOLY     ORDERS  71 

inexhaustible  topics  on  which  both  the  British  Parliament 
and  Press  discourse  perpetually  in  the  most  obvious  and 
worn-out  platitudes.  It  is  a  national  evil  which  is  for  ever 
being  deplored  in  the  most  eloquently  rounded  periods  by 
gentlemen  who  at  the  same  time  do  all  they  can  to  increase 
the  profits  obtained  by  the  sale  of  spirituous  liquors  to  the 
million,  and  who,  while  they  nobly  denounce  the  intemper- 
ance of  the  people,  forget  to  equally  denounce  the  equally  in- 
temperate and  criminal  adulteration  of  those  same  spirituous 
liquors  by  such  of  their  friends  in  the  House  of  Commons 
who  are  brewers  and  whisky  distillers.  It  is  all  very  well  to 
blame  the  people  for  drinking  poison,  but  the  worst  of  the 
evil  is  with  the  national  Government,  which  not  only  allows 
poison  to  be  made  and  sold  freely,  but  which  actually  legal- 
izes the  sale,  and  not  unfrequently  rewards  some  of  the  chief 
Poisoners  with  Peerages  and  other  titles  of  honor.  Pretty 
Azalea  Everton,  for  instance,  was  not  half  or  quarter  as 
rich  in  this  world's  goods  as  ugly  Mrs.  Minchin,  the  brew- 
er's wife, — yet  Azalea's  husband  was  a  good  and  honest  man, 
and  Mrs.  Minchin's  better  half  was  a  hypocritical  Fraud. 
Why,  then,  should  fortune  or  providence  appear  to  favor 
Fraud  more  than  Honesty?  This  was  the  purely  personal 
question  which  Azalea  put  to  herself  by  way  of  an  unuttered 
comment  on  Mrs.  Adcott's  jeremiad ;  it  was  no  use,  she  said 
inwardly,  no  use  at  all  for  Richard  to  take  parish  matters  so 
much  to  heart,  for  improvement  was  impossible  so  long  as 
two  public-houses  dominated  the  village.  Minchin  was  the 
supreme  ruler  of  the  place  and  its  inhabitants — and  for  a 
clergyman — a  '  man  of  God  '  to  contend  with  a  man  of  Belial 
was  as  if  an  idealist  should  contend  with  an  usurer. 

"  It's  a  great  pity," — she  said,  at  last,  after  a  pause — "  that 
the  people  are  not  sensible  enough  to  see  where  drink  is 
bound  to  lead  them,  and  that  they  do  not  try  to  be  better. 
If  they  denied  themselves  a  little  and  prayed  to  God  to  help 
them " 

She  hesitated  here  and  colored  a  little, — she  had  a  kind  of 
instinctive  feeling  that  her  words  were  but  wasted  breath. 

"  Ah !  " — and  Mrs.  Adcott  shook  her  head  dismally — 
"  Prayin'  God  don't  do  much  good !  Many's  the  woman 
who's  been  all  night  on  'er  knees  a-prayin'  an'  a-prayin'  God 
to  keep  'er  man  from  drink,  an'  ten  to  one  'e'll  come  'ome 


72  HOLY     ORDERS 

and  fetch  'er  a  blow  on  the  'ed  for  'avin'  set  up  for  'im. 
Marriage  ain't  all  a  bed  o'  roses,  ma'am,  an'  I  often  thinks 
when  we  sez  '  for  better  for  worse '  at  the  altar,  we've  not 
much  notion  what  the  worse  is  like  or  we'd  'ang  ourselves 
afore  we  ever  got  married  at  all!  There  goes  Jacynth 
now!" 

Moved  by  a  quick  curiosity,  Mrs.  Everton  went  to  the 
cottage  window  and  peeped  out.  The  sun  was  shining 
brightly  by  this  time,  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road 
Jacynth  Miller  was  walking,  dressed  in  a  plain  blue  cotton 
gown,  her  hair  braided  in  shining  coils  round  her  graceful 
head,  and  a  knot  of  primroses  fastened  carelessly  at  her  throat. 
She  was  smiling  to  herself — there  was  a  lovely  color  on  her 
cheeks, — her  step  was  light  and  buoyant — she  looked  not 
only  a  happy  girl,  but  a  good  girl, — a  girl  full  of  the  careless 
innocence  of  some  forest  animal  that  thinks  no  evil  because 
it  knows  none. 

"  She's  got  a  rare  deceivin'  face  of  'er  own," — said  Mrs. 
Adcott,  watching  her — "  An'  it'll  take  in  a  good  many  more 
men  besides  Dan  Kiernan !  " 

Mrs.  Everton  moved  from  the  window.  Her  charming 
features  had  grown  suddenly  hard  and  cold.  She  was  an- 
noyed; and  she  had  not  the  moral  courage  to  admit  to  her- 
self that  the  cause  of  her  annoyance  was  Jacynth's  singular 
beauty.  The  conviction  that  she  is  virtuous  cannot  always 
atone  to  a  woman  for  the  triumph  of  vice.  Nor  can  the  pos- 
sessor of  a  pretty  face  be  entirely  satisfied  with  the  contem- 
plation of  a  prettier  one. 

"  I  must  be  going  now," — she  said,  stiffly — "  Please  send 
up  to  the  Vicarage  if  you  want  anything  for  Mrs.  Kiernan. 
I  don't  think  she  will  worry  over  what  I  have  said — 'because 
— you  see — She  doesn't  believe  it " 

"  It's  a  good  thing  if  she  doesn't," — said  Mrs.  Adcott 
sorrowfully — "  But  there's  many  a  woman  as  says  she  doesn't 
believe  bad  news  just  for  the  pride  o'  not  complainin',  when 
all  the  time  the  knife's  in  'er  'art.  Howsomever,  I'll  do  my 
best  to  keep  Jennie  quiet  till  she  gets  'er  strength  up." 

"  And,  of  course,"  went  on  Mrs.  Everton — "  as  I  have 
promised  you,  I  shall  say  nothing  to  the  Vicar  about  this 
painful  business — not  at  present.  I  think,  however," — here 
she  paused  and  reflected — "  I  think  if  Jacynth  Miller  did 
the  proper  thing,  she  would  leave  the  village." 


HOLY     ORDERS  73 

"  It's  quite  likely  she  will,  ma'am," — and  Mrs.  Adcott 
smoothed  her  apron  down  with  rather  trembling  hands — 
"  There's  plenty  o'  men  as  'ull  take  'er !  " 

"  Plenty  of  men !  "  echoed  Azalea,  in  surprise — "  Plenty 
of  men  who — who  know?  " 

Mrs.  Adcott  gave  one  emphatic  nod  which  spoke  volumes. 
Azalea  was  shocked  and  disgusted. 

"Well — good-morning!"  she  said,   rather  hurriedly. 

"  Good-mornin',  ma'am." 

And  the  world,  as  epitomized  in  Shadbrook,  seemed  a  very 
strange  place  to  the  Vicar's  pretty  young  wife  as  she  tripped 
lightly  away  on  her  little  high  heels  back  to  her  own  home. 
It  never  occurred  to  her  to  think  that  she  had  done  no  good 
by  her  visit  to  Jennie  Kiernan,  but  rather  harm, — and  she  had 
no  foresight  or  skill  to  calculate  the  extent  to  which  the  harm 
might  lead.  She  was  one  of  the  many  who  judge  the  poor 
by  the  rich, — or  rather,  who  consider  the  poor  as  a  class  of 
beings  altogether  apart  from  the  rich,  hardly  to  be  counted 
in  with  ordinary  humanity, — a  species  of  savage  as  it  were, 
to  be  treated  differently,  fed  differently,  talked  to  differ- 
ently, and  instructed  differently.  The  one  broad  grand  fact 
so  plainly  set  forth  in  Scripture,  that  '  God  is  no  respecter 
•of  persons,'  carried  no  conviction  to  her  mind, — she  and  her 
husband  were,  she  felt,  altogether  of  a  finer  quality  to  the 
gross  material  composing  the  parishioners  of  Shadbrook,  and 
she  saw  not  a  shadow  of  resemblance  between  her  '  baby 
Laurence '  and  the  little  village  urchins  who  crawled  down 
to  the  side  of  the  dirty  brook  on  fine  days  and  made  mud  pies 
till  they  looked  the  very  offspring  of  the  mud  themselves. 
And  though  she  knew  that  her  religious  creed  demanded  that 
she  should  believe  that  we  are  one  and  all  the  same  before 
God,  she  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  making  certain 
definitions  .which  were  narrowed  or  widened  according  to  her 
mood  of  the  moment.  As  she  went  through  the  Vicarage 
garden  on  her  way  into  the  house,  she  passed  her  husband's 
study  window.  She  saw  him  writing  busily  at  his  desk — but 
he  looked  up  as  he  heard  her  footstep  on  the  gravel  path  and 
nodded  and  smiled  at  her.  And  then — 

"  How  dreadful  it  all  is !  "  she  thought — "  I  suppose  he 
actually  thinks  Shadbrook  is  a  moral  village,  and  that  he  is 
helping  to  keep  it  so!  And  he  isn't  the  least  bit  of  use — • 
I'm  sure  he  isn't — not  the  very  least  little  bit!  " 


CHAPTER  V 

S  a  natural  consequence  of  his  wife's  visit  to  Mrs.  Kier- 
nan,  Everton  could  gain  from  her  very  little  informa- 
tion as  to  the  injured  woman's  actual  condition  beyond  the 
fact  that  she  was  '  very  bad.' 

"  And  very  miserable,"  added  Azalea,  as  an  afterthought 
— "  I  wish,  Dick,  you  could  get  Dan  Kiernan  out  of  the 
village." 

"  That's  impossible," — said  the  Vicar,  gently — "  Every 
man  has  a  right  to  live  where  he  likes,  provided  he  pays  his 
way." 

"  But  if  he  is  a  positive  scandal — a  disgrace  to  the  neigh- 
borhood !  "  exclaimed  Azalea,  with  indignantly  flashing  eyes. 

"  Well,  my  dear  child,  it  must  be  my  business  to  try  and 
reform  him, — I  can't  turn  him  out !  "  and  Richard  smiled — 
"  Have  you  ever  thought,  Azalea,  what  would  happen  if  the 
clergy  were  allowed  to  summarily  eject  all  drunkards  from 
their  several  parishes  ?  " 

She  pouted.  "  No,  I  haven't !  You  are  laughing  at  me, 
Dick — but  you  don't  see  the  seriousness  of  the  case " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  do ! — no  one  realizes  the  horror  of  the  drink 
craze  more  forcibly  than  I  do, — but — as  I  have  just  sug- 
gested, if  we  parsons  could  carry  matters  with  such  high 
authority  as  to  banish  all  drunkards  out  of  their  chosen  habi- 
tations wherever  we  find  them,  I'm  afraid — I  really  am 
afraid,  Azalea,  that  our  parishioners  would  be  rather  scarce !  " 

"  Then  you  think  there  are  drunkards  everywhere  as  bad 
as  Kiernan  ?  "  she  said. 

"I  not  only  think  it — I  know  it!"  he  answered,  and  a 
cloud  of  sadness  shadowed  his  features — "  For  there  are 
public-houses  everywhere,  and  as  a  matter  of  course  there 
must  be  drunkards.  Though  I  prefer  to  call  them  poisoned 
people  rather  than  drunkards.  If  you  saw  a  man  reeling 
under  the  effects  of  laudanum  or  cyanide  of  potassium  or 
any  other  such,  deadly  drug,  you  would  be  sorry  for  him — 

74 


HOLY    ORDERS  75 

you  would  try  to  apply  such  remedies  as  might  most  quickly 
restore  him  to  health  and  sane  consciousness.  Yet  our 
'  drunken '  working-men  are  just  in  the  same  condition,  and 
instead  of  trying  to  cure  them,  we  reproach  them  for  getting 
poisoned,  while  we  let  the  poisoners  go  scot  free!  We  read 
in  history  of  Caesar  Borgia  who,  whenever  he  had  a  grudge 
against  any  one,  invited  that  person  to  a  friendly  banquet 
and  mixed  a  few  drops  of  swift  poison  in  the  loving-cup  of 
wine, — now,  in  my  opinion,  many  a  brewer  and  spirit  dis- 
tiller is  nothing  but  a  commercial  Caesar  Borgia,  whose 
poisoning  tricks  are  carried  on,  not  for  vengeance,  but  for 
gain, — and  who  is,  therefore,  more  sordid  in  his  wickedness 
than  even  the  mediaeval  murderer!  " 

He  spoke  with  energy  and  emphasis.    Azalea  was  silent. 

"  Think  for  a  moment !  "  he  went  on — "  You  and  I  do 
not  get  '  drunk '  when  we  enjoy  our  light  French  wine  at 
dinner,  or  when  at  some  friend's  house  we  take  a  glass  of 
champagne  in  a  sociable  way,  to  show  that  we  appreciate  the 
hospitality  offered  us.  But  if  you  or  I  were  to  drink  a  tum- 
bler of  Minchin's  beer,  or  threepennyworth  of  the  whisky 
sold  at  Minchin's  public-houses,  we  should  be,  to  put  it  quite 
plainly, '  drunk,'  or  rather,  so  heavily  drugged  that  we  should 
find  it  difficult  to  stand  straight.  And  it  is  not  fair  or  just 
to  the  poor  that  they  should  get  poison  instead  of  pure  stuff 
for  their  hard-earned  money, — they  have  as  good  a  right  to 
be  thirsty  as  gentle-folk,  surely! — and  they  ought  to  be  able 
to  buy  good,  wholesome  beer,  not  a  pernicious  concoction 
which  is  purposely  contrived  to  stimulate  thirst  afresh,  and 
to  confuse  the  brain  as  well.  Cocculus  indicus  and  tobacco 
used  to  be  employed  in  the  adulteration  of  beer, — these 
deadly  ingredients  are  forbidden  now  by  law,  but  in  how 
many  instances  is  the  law  not  privately  set  at  defiance! 
There's  never  a  brewery  without  its  own  '  chemical  shop ' 
close  by." 

"  Well,  I  think,"  said  Azalea,  pursing  her  pretty  lips 
primly,  "  that  under  all  the  circumstances,  Dick,  you,  as  a 
clergyman,  ought  to  be  against  drink  altogether — I  do  really! 
We  could  easily  do  without  our  little  quantity  of  wine,  I'm 
sure — and  you  might  perhaps  have  more  influence  over  the 
parishioners  if  you  were  a  complete  teetotaler." 

"  Like  Minchin  himself!  "  retorted  Everton,  with  a  slight 


76  HOLY     ORDERS 

ji 

shrug  of  contempt — "  He  drinks  nothing  but  water, — does 
his  example  benefit  the  community?  Is  he  not  known  as  a 
sanctimonious  money-grubber  and  hypocrite?  No,  Azalea  1 
I  am  for  temperance — not  teetotalism.  I  like  men  who  are 
manly  enough  to  understand  the  first  duty  they  owe  to  them- 
selves, that  of  self-restraint, — and  a  fellow  who  has  to  wear 
a  blue  ribbon  in  his  button-hole  as  a  sign  that  he  never  gets 
drunk,  is  merely  advertising  himself  as  a  moral  coward." 

"  Still,  it  would  surely  be  a  good  thing,  wouldn't  it,  if 
Dan  Kiernan  could  be  persuaded  to  take  the  pledge  ?  "  she 
said. 

"I  doubt  it!  He  would  add  to  his  fault  of  drink,  the 
second  and  worse  one  of  hypocrisy.  For  the  possibility  is 
that  he  would  indulge  himself  in  secret  drinking  then,  and 
pretend  that  he  never  touched  a  drop.  And  to  my  mind  any- 
thing's  better  than  pretending  to  be  honest  when  you  know 
you're  a  humbug!  " 

Azalea  looked  at  him  a  little  nervously.  If  he  only  knew, 
she  thought,  that  the  whole  parish  was  just  now  '  pretending  ' 
that  nothing  was  wrong  with  Jacynth  Miller  and  Kiernan! 
She  wondered  what  he  would  say.  She  remembered  his  words 
"  Even  a  bad  girl  may  be  sorry  for  her  badness  and  may 
wish  to  be  better."  And  he  had  said — poor  dear  Dick! — that 
he  really  '  hoped '  Jacynth  did'  wish  to  be  better.  What 
would  he  think  now — now  if  all  the  truth  were  told  ?  She 
longed  to  speak — but  her  promise  to  Mrs.  Adcott  held  her 
within  bounds,  and  she  checked  the  words  that  rose  to  her 
lips.  Her  husband  glanced  at  her  inquiringly. 

"  You  seem  to  have  something  on  your  mind,  little 
woman,"  he  said  tenderly — "  Any  worry  or  vexation?  " 

She  colored. 

"  Oh  no,  Dick! — nothing  of  that  kind.  Only — I  was 
thinking, — people  often  do  'pretend,'  don't  they?" 

He  laughed. 

"  They  do ! — most  assuredly !  "  he  answered — "  A  great 
portion  of  what  we  call  our  '  social '  life  is  made  up  of  noth- 
ing but  social  lies.  But  because  such  a  condition  of  things 
exists  we  need  not  admire  it,  or  lend  our  aid  in  any  way  to 
support  it." 

She  looked  down  and  carefully  fitted  the  point  of  her  little 
shoe  into  the  pattern  of  the  carpet. 


HOLY     ORDERS  77 

"You  wouldn't  approve  of  a  lie  on  any  occasion,  would 
you?  "  she  asked — "  Not  even  to  cover  up  the  sins  of  some- 
body very  dear  to  you  ?  " 

He  was  a  little  surprised  at  the  question,  and  considered 
it  a  moment. 

"  No — I  don't  think  so," — he  replied,  at  last — "  Person- 
ally, I  think  truth  is  always  best.  Because,  to  begin  with, 
it  is  the  unwritten  law  of  the  universe  that  what  is  shall  re- 
main, and  that  what  only  seems  shall  perish.  Therefore, 
we  do  ourselves  wrong  when  we  run  counter  to  the  Divine 
Mathematics.  While  a  sinner  conceals  his  sins  he  is  self- 
condemned;  when  he  confesses  them  he  is  at  once  half  re- 
deemed." 

"  Then  you  would  forgive  any  wicked  person  who  con- 
fessed their  wickedness  ? "  queried  Azalea,  still  looking  at 
the  carpet. 

"  My  dear  girl,  you  make  me  quite  anxious !  "  Here  ap- 
proaching her,  he  took  her  face  between  his  two  hands,  and 
studied  its  lovely  coloring  fondly-^"  Have  you  been  doing 
anything  very  wrong  ?  " 

At  this  she  laughed,  and  her  eyes  danced  with  merriment. 

"  Not  very !  "  she  answered  gayly — "  I'll  confess  to  you  at 
once  when  I  have  trespassed  against  any  of  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments— you  may  be  sure  of  that!"  She  raised  herself 
on  the  tips  of  her  toes  and  kissed  him — "  You  are  a  dear  old 
Dick !  You  never  suspect  anything  or  anybody !  " 

At  that  moment  a  knock  came  at  the  study  door,  and  on 
Everton's  calling  "  Come  in,"  the  parlormaid  entered,  bring- 
ing a  small  visiting  card  on  a  large  silver  salver. 

"  This  gentleman  would  like  to  see  you,  sir," — she  said. 

Everton  took  up  the  card  and  read  its  small  neat  super- 
scription :  '  Sebastien  Douay.' 

"  I  don't  know  the  name," — he  began  dubiously. 

"  He  told  me  he  was  a  stranger  to  you,  sir," — said  the 
parlormaid — "  He  particularly  wished  to  see  the  church. 
He's  quite  a  gentleman." 

"  Oh  very  well — just  show  him  into  the  drawing-room, 
and  say  I'll  come  in  a  moment." 

The  maid  retired. 

"  Don't  ask  him  to  luncheon !  "  implored  Azalea — "  Who- 
ever he  is,  Dick,  don't  do  that!  " 


78  HOLY     ORDERS 

Everton  laughed. 

"  As  if  I  should  ask  any  fellow  to  luncheon  without  know 
ing  something  about  him !  "  he  said — "  Really,  Azalea,  you 
are  a  quaint  little  woman !  " 

"  Well,  sometimes  you  are  rather  impulsive," — she  an- 
swered. "  We  see  so  few  people  down  here  that  if  a  very 
pleasant  man  turns  up,  it  is  no  wonder  you  don't  want  him 
to  go  away  again  at  once."  Here  she  also  looked  at  the 
visitor's  card.  "  Sebastien  Douay!  Oh,  that's  a  French 
name.  He's  a  foreigner." 

"  Let  us  beware  of  him  then," — said  Everton,  smiling — 
"  Let  us  be  on  our  guard  like  true-born  Britons  who  view 
everything  un-British  with  dark  suspicion!  Yet  even  a  na- 
tive of  France  may  be  a  man  and  a  brother  all  the  same, 
mayn't  he?" 

"  Of  course  he  may!  Oh,  Dick,  why  are  you  so  nonsen- 
sical! But  I  don't  want  this  particular  man  and  brother 
invited  to  stop  to  luncheon,  no  matter  how  nice  and  agree- 
able he  is." 

"  All  right!    But  may  I  ask  why?  " 

"Because  there's  only  cold  mutton.  There!"  declared 
Azalea,  quite  desperately — "  And  however  you  put  it,  cold 
mutton  is  a  comfortless  thing,  even  with  salad  and  hot  po- 
tatoes. You  can  never  get  over  the  cheerlessness  of  it !  We 
don't  mind  it,  because  of  course  if  we  have  a  joint  of  mutton 
at  all  in  the  house  it  has  to  be  eaten  cold  sometimes,  but 
strangers  always  feel  the  dismalness  of  it  so  much!" 

Everton  nodded  with  good-humored  significance. 

"  Very  well ! — I  won't  argue  the  point !  "  he  said — "  But 
if  every  hungry  fellow  in  the  world  could  get  a  slice  of  cold 
mutton  for  the  asking,  the  '  dismalness '  might  not  be  so 
very  dismal  after  all!  " 

He  went  off  then,  and  entering  the  drawing-room  found 
his  visitor  standing  with  hands  clasped  behind  his  back, 
looking  meditatively  out  of  the  window  into  the  garden.  He 
was  a  little  man,  with  a  clean-shaven  round  chubby  face, 
and  a  pleasant  smile  which  sparkled  up  from  his  lips  to  his 
eyes  in  a  very  taking  and  kindly  way.  He  was  dressed  in  a 
clerical  surtout,  buttoned  up  tightly  to  the  throat, — and  a 
soft  felt  hat  of  the  approved  '  churchman  '  model  lay  on  a 
chair  beside  him. 


HOLY     ORDERS  79 

"I  must  demand  one  thousand  pardons!"  he  said,  in 
somewhat  imperfect  English,  turning  round  as  Everton  en- 
tered— "  Poss-eebly  it  is  not  the  time  to  call  upon  the  clergy- 
man to  see  the  church  ?  " 

"  Pray  don't  apologize ! "  replied  Everton  quickly,  ex- 
tending a  hand  in  frank  courtesy — "  My  time  is  quite  at  your 
disposal  for  an  hour  at  least.  You  are  most  welcome  to  see 
the  church — I'll  take  you  round  there  at  once,  especially  as 
you  are  of  my  own  calling " 

"  Ah  non !  " — and  the  little  man  gave  a  deprecatory  ges- 
ture, "  I  will  not  permit  you  to  mistake  me!  I  am  a  priest 
of  the  '  True  '  Church — the  Roman  Catholique  " — here  his 
eyes  twinkled  with  a  most  agreeable  facetiousness — "  But 
that  shall  make  no  difference,  shall  it,  in  our  leetle  meet- 
ing?" 

Everton  was  quite  charmed  with  the  vivacious  simplicity 
of  his  manner. 

"Certainly  not!"  he  said  heartily — "  We  both  serve  the 
same  Master." 

"  Not  so !  "  and  his  visitor  shook  a  forefinger  knowingly 
in  the  air — "  Not  so  by  long  ways !  You  serve  the  King — 
I  serve  the  Pope!  Two  big  personages  that  must  nevare 
agree !  " 

Everton  smiled  rather  gravely. 

"  I  mean,"  he  said — "  a  greater  Master  than  either." 

"  Ah  yes !  You  mean  the  good  Christ.  But  nobody  serves 
Him  at  all  in  our  times — nobody !  "  He  snapped  his  fingers, 
still  smiling.  "  His  name  is  une  convenance!  C'est  tout! 
Let  us  see  the  church !  " 

A  little  puzzled,  and  not  knowing  quite  what  to  say,  Ev- 
erton opened  the  long  latticed  windows  of  the  drawing-room 
which  led  out  immediately  to  the  lawn,  and  escorted  his  new 
acquaintance  through  the  garden  to  a  private  gate  communi- 
cating with  the  churchyard. 

"  You  have  my  name?  "  proceeded  the  little  priest—"  Se- 
bastien  Douay?  Yes!  That  is  me.  Ah,  so  short  while  ago 
I  was  le  pere  Douay — notre  cher  petit  pere — so  the  children 
of  my  village  called  me — ah  oui! — a  village  not  large — no, 
not  so  large  as  this  Shadbrook  " — he  spread  out  his  hands 
descriptively — "but  charmant!  Now  Madame  le  Repub- 
lique  Francaise  has  swept  me  out  with  all  that  she  calls  her 


80  HOLY     ORDERS 

church  rubbish — she  has  swept  me  and  so  many  more  into 
England !  And  here  I  am ! — and  to  this  place  I  wander  like 
what  you  call  a  tramp* — is  it  not  so?  " 

"  Your  Church/'  said  Everton  slowly — "  is  making  many 
converts  in  this  country — I  should  think  you  would  find 
plenty  of  friends  here." 

"  Friends?  Oh,  for  that!  "  Here  he  gave  a  shrug  more 
expressive  than  words.  "  Yes,  there  are  many,  if  you  will  do 
just  as  they  tell  you !  But  not  if  you  desire  to  do  something 
for  yourself!  I  have  just  come  from  a  leetle,  very  leetle 
place  in  Warwickshire — where  there  is  a  leetle,  very  leetle 
church — the  cure  is  ill  and  poor — ah!  so  very  poor! — and 
while  he  has  been  ill,  the  Bishop  ask  me  to  take  the  service — 
and  when  I  say  my  bad  English  will  not  please,  he  say  '  Bah ! 
The  people  are  so  stupid  they  will  not  mind,' — and  that  is 
true!  So  I  say  the  Mass  and  confess  the  stupid  people — but 
I  do  very  leetle  preaching — they  would  not  comprehend  me — 
no! — they  can  perhaps  follow  the  Latin  in  their  missals 
— but  I  do  not  ask  them  to  follow  my  English  in  the  pulpit 
— no ! — that  would  be  a  cruelty !  " 

He  laughed,  and  Everton  laughed  with  him.  There  was 
something  quite  infectious  in  his  cheery  personality.  They 
had  by  this  time  reached  the  church, — a  quaint  gray  stone 
edifice,  small,  but  of  perfect  proportion  in  every  line,  with  a 
genuine  early  Norman  porch,  and  ivy  clinging  tenderly 
around  its  ancient  square  tower.  It  was  a  very  quiet,  peace- 
ful little  place,  shadowed  in  its  venerable  tranquillity  by  a 
few  tall  old  trees1  among  which  some  rooks  were  evidently 
thinking  of  building  their  nests,  for  they  were  cawing  to 
each  other  persistently  as  though  the  time  for  housekeeping 
had  already  begun.  The  churchyard  was  scrupulously  clean 
and  well-kept,  and  only  a  few  of  last  year's  leaves  had  flut- 
tered down  from  the  overhanging  branches  on  some  of  the 
neatly  trimmed  graves.  A  sense  of  sweet  repose  softened  by 
tender  melancholy  hung  about  this  small  '  God's  Acre,'  and 
appeared  to  touch  some  chord  in  the  emotions  of  the  exiled 
'  pere  Douay ' — for  he  paused  at  a  small  rounded  hillock 
which  covered  the  mortal  remains  of  a  child,  '  aged  Three 
Years,'  where  a  knot  of  white  lilies  lay  fresh  upon  the  wet 
turf,  and  said  gently: 

"Ah  the  pity  I     Those  flowers  mean  so    much    broken 


HOLY     ORDERS  81 

heart!  The  leetle  laughing  child  gone! — the  sweet  lilies  so 
pure  and  still !  Sometimes — yes ! — it  is  wrong  to  say  it — but 
sometimes  I  feel  that  God  must  be  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  kill 
so  many  pretty  things  which  He  has  made !  " 

Everton  offered  no  reply.  The  words  at  once  recalled 
Mrs.  Moddley's  remark  as  repeated  by  her  hopeful  son — 
"  Mother  don't  see  'ow  God  can  bear  to  live  watchin'  all  the 
poor  folks  die  what  He's  made  Hisself !  "  The  thought  was 
the  same  as  that  expressed  by  his  present  visitor,  though  dif- 
ferently worded.  He  took  a  large  key  out  of  his  pocket  and 
with  it  unfastened  the  church  door. 

"  I  see  you  lock  up  the  dear  Lord !  "  said  Douay,  with  a 
little  smile — "You  keep  Him  a  prisoner!  Not  so  do  we 
Catholiques.  We  leave  our  church  doors  open — we  make 
the  Lord  always  to  be  at  home!  If  a  man  or  woman  is 
naughty,  he  or  she  can  enter  and  say  a  prayer  and  try  to  be 
sorry.  At  one  time  I  am  sure,  in  the  history  of  this  church, 
the  Lord  was  also  at  home  in  it  ?  " 

Everton  took  this  query  without  any  offense. 

"  Of  course,  in  the  past,  this  church,  like  all  the  churches 
of  England,  was  Roman  Catholic,"  he  said — "  Up  to  the 
time  of  the  Reformation,  masses  were  said  in  it  every  day, — 
and  I  believe  that  even  during  Elizabeth's  reign  and  despite 
all  her  laws  against  Catholics,  secret  masses  were  held  in  the 
crypt.  The  crypt  is  the  most  ancient  part  of  the  building — 
the  genuine  remains  of  the  former  hermitage.  You  know, 
I  suppose,  that  it  was  once  a  hermit's  chapel  ?  " 

Douay  nodded  emphatically. 

"Of  hermits  I  always  read  much!"  he  said — "They 
amaze  me!  That  they  should  wish  to  leave  society  is  not  a 
matter  for  surprise, — but  that  they  should  live  quite  alone, 
and  on  hard  beans  and  water,  is  all  beyond  my  comprehen- 
sion. I  at  once  say  it  is  not  for  me.  A  hermitage  a  deux 
would  be  more  agreeable !  " 

He  laughed — and  Everton  thought  him  frivolous.  Douay 
saw  and  understood  his  expression,  and  his  bright  gray  eyes 
twinkled  yet  more  humorously. 

"You  are  married,  Mistaire  Everton?"  he  asked.  A 
slight  flush  warmed  the  Vicar's  pale  face. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered — "  I  have  been  married  three  years." 

"  Ah !   That  is  early  days !    I  felicitate  you !  "  and  Douay 


82  HOLY     ORDERS 

made  him  a  fantastic  little  bow,  which  was  half  jocose,  and 
half  complimentary — "  You  are  still  in  Paradise !  " 

They  passed  through  the  porchway  and  entered  the  church 
itself.  It  was  a  very  unassuming  little  interior,  strictly  in 
conformity  with  the  formerly  professed  simplicity  of  the 
Church  of  England.  The  ugly  part  of  it  was,  as  is  usual  in 
many  churches,  the  seating  accommodation — this  being  the 
too  familiar  hard  rows  of  light  oak  pews  which  much  more 
suggest  benches  for  a  lecture  hall  than  for  a  place  of  prayer. 
The  roof  was  finely  arched,  and  was  supported  on  eight  noble 
stone  columns  which  mutely  testified  to  the  architectural  skill 
of  their  long  ago  forgotten  designer,  while  the  chancel, 
though  lofty  and  spacious,  was  spoilt  by  four  modern  stained- 
glass  windows  which,  in  their  conception  and  coloring,  might 
have  found  fitting  place  in  a  twentieth-century  hotel 
*  lounge,'  but  which  were  much  too  crude  and  gaudy  for  a 
house  of  worship. 

"  Those  windows  are  an  eyesore," — said  Everton,  notic- 
ing Douay's  quizzical  expression  as  he  looked  at  them — 
"  But  they  were  put  in  by  Squire  Hazlitt,  the  patron  of  the 
living,  in  memory  of  his  deceased  relations.  He  is  a  very 
good,  kindly  man,  but  unfortunately  he  has  no  taste  for 
what  is  reverent  and  noble  in  art." 

"  Like  so  many  good,  kindly  men !  "  smiled  Douay — "  Par 
exemple,  like  that  most  excellent  personage  who  wished  to 
put  a  sculptured  memorial  of  his  actress-wife  immediately 
opposite  the  bust  of  Shakespeare,  in  Stratford-on-Avon 
Church.  He  would  have  done  it,  too,  if  he  had  not  most 
fortunately  been  caught  on  a  point  of  law  and  so  prevented. 
Imagine !  Your  great  Shak-es-peare  face  to  face  with  a  mod- 
ern actress-lady  in  his  own  burial-place!  Ha-ha!  What  a 
stupidity!  But  no  doubt  the  amiable  provincial  gentlemen 
concerned  in  the  scheme,  settled  it  over  a  glass  of  wine  at 
dinner,  and  could  not  understand  that  they  were  ignorant 
and  irreverent  enough  to  make  the  whole  world  laugh  at 
them!  Your  Squire  is  like  that — he  does  not  see  any  laugh 
in  these  comic  windows !  " 

Here  he  turned  towards  the  font,  which  was  a  very  ancient 
one,  circular  in  shape  and  supported  on  a  single  column  in 
the  center,  with  small  auxiliary  corner  columns  round  it 
bearing  curious  devices  of  sculptured  animals  and  flowers. 


HOLY     ORDERS  83 

"  This  is  good!  "  he  said^"  This  is  of  the  old  faith  time! 
And  it  recalls  to  me  a  leetle  story  of  baptism.  In  the  place 
where  I  have  been  in  Warwickshire,  there  came  to  me  one 
poor  woman  very  brown  and  dirty — a  geep-sy — with  a  very 
small  girl  bebe.  She  says  to  me :  '  I  have  no  money — I  am 
poor  geep-sy — will  you  give  the  name  to  my  leetle  bebe  ?  '  I 
ask  her  if  she  is  Catholique  and  she  say  yes.  So  I  take  the 

leetle  bebe  and  I  baptize  it  with  so  very  curious  name " 

He  paused  reflectively — "  Let  me  see ! — yes — Ar — ar — yes ! 
— Arminellia!  Imagine!  For  a  geep-sy!  Arminellia! 
C'est  drole!  Then  the  poor  geep-sy  thank  me  and  beg  of 
me  two  shillings — she  is  so  poor,  she  say — but  you  laugh? 
Why?" 

For  Everton's  face  expressed  the  most  whimsical  merri- 
ment, and  his  blue  eyes  danced  with  fun. 

"I  know  that  gypsy!"  he  said — "And  I  wonder  how 
many  times  and  in  how  many  churches  her  helpless  infant 
will  be  baptized!  I  baptized  it  myself  the  other  day — gave 
it  the  same  name — Arminellia — and  gave  the  mother  the 
same  requested  two  shillings !  She  was  a  Church  of  England 
woman  then !  " 

Their  glances  met,  and  they  both  smiled. 

"  We  are  what  you  English  call  '  done ' !  "  said  Douay 
gayly,  "  But  the  leetle  Arminellia  is  quite  safe !  Safe  for 
this  world  and  also  for  the  next.  If  she  go  to  one  gate  of 
Heaven  she  will  find  St.  Peter — he  say — '  Are  you  Catho- 
lique? '  '  Yes,'  she  say — '  le  pere  Douay  has  baptize  me  true 
Catholique.'  So  she  pass  St.  Peter.  If  she  go  to  another 
gate  she  meet  St.  Paul.  '  Are  you  Protestant  ?  '  he  say — 
'  Yes — the  clergyman  of  Shadbrook,  Mistaire  Everton,  has 
baptize  me  true  Protestant.'-  So  she  pass  St.  Paul!  My 
friend,  we  have  been  careful  for  Arminellia!  Shake  hands 
upon  it!  " 

Everton  laughed  gently,  and  entering  into  the  spirit  of 
the  thing,  clasped  Douay 's  outstretched  hand  with  ready 
cordiality. 

"After  all,"  continued  Douay — "we  are  the  same  poor 
servants  together — trying  to  perform  our  Master's  orders 
without  always  comprehending  them !  " 

Everton  made  no  reply,  and  they  presently  left  the  church. 
Douay  was  interested  in  everything  he  saw, — he  admired 


84  HOLY     ORDERS 

the  landscape,  now  looking  fresh  and  radiant  in  the  un- 
obscured  glory  of  the  noon-day  sun — he  paused  to  listen 
to  a  thrush  singing, — and  his  amiable  round  face  expressed 
so  much  contentment,  good-humor  and  affability,  that  more 
than  once  Everton  was  sorely  tempted  to  trespass  against 
his  wife's  injunction  and  ask  his  visitor  to  stay  to  luncheon, 
despite  the  humiliating  prospect  of  cold  mutton.  But  he 
feared  that  Azalea  might  be  really  put  out  in  her  house- 
keeping arrangements  if  he  did  this  after  the  urgent  request 
she  had  made  to  him,  for  even  the  sweetest  of  wives  may  be 
apt  to  suffer  from  a  little  flurry  of  temper  over  unexpected 
domestic  difficulties,  just  as  the  prettiest  rose  may  have  a 
crumpled  petal.  Moved  by  these  considerations  he  paused 
at  the  entrance  gate  of  the  Vicarage  garden  to  bid  his  visitor 
farewell. 

"  Are  you  staying  in  the  village?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  so  very  far  away," — replied  Douay — "  I  have  an 
apartment  in  a  cottage  on  the  hill, — near  a  very  big  ugly 
house  which  they  tell  me  is  the  house  of  one  Monsieur 
Minchin,  the  brewer.  Ah,  how  fortunate  it  is  to  brew  the 
beer  in  England!  To  make  the  poor  people  drunk  and  to 
live  on  the  profits!  Excellent!" 

"  I  wish  I  could  talk  to  you.  about  that !  "  said  Everton, 
with  quick  earnestness — "  I  know  that  drink  is  the  curse  of 
our  country,  and  yet  I  deny  with  all  my  soul  that  we  are 
an  intemperate  people!  We  are  not!  We  are  by  nature 
a  steady,  sober,  God-fearing  people.  But  we  permit  our- 
selves to  be  duped  and  cheated.  Our  easy-going  good- 
nature gives  us  into  the  hands  of  fraudulent  scoundrels,  and 
our  Government  freely  licenses  the  poisoners  of  our  brains 
and  bodies,  so  that  they  may  continue  to  poison  us  for  their 
own  advantage  and  yet  go  scot  free.  There  is  nothing  I 
feel  more  acutely  than  the  hopeless  position  of  the  unhappy 
wretches  who  are  classed  as  '  drunkards.'  They  are  simply 
poisoned! — and  the  drinking  of  poison  sets  up  a  poisonous 
craving  which  is  fostered — nay  pampered — by  the  very  laws 
of  the  country.  We  clergy  can  do  nothing,  because  there 
has  been  so  much  cant  and  humbug  talked  about  '  temper- 
ance '  by  certain  of  our  cloth  who,  while  preaching  against 
drink,  actually  invest  their  savings  in  brewery  and  distillery 
shares,  that  very  naturally  the  '  drunkards '  themselves 


HOLY     ORDERS  85 

despise  such  hypocrisy  and  double-dealing!  I  say,  and  I 
will  always  maintain,  that  there  would  be  few  '  drunkards ' 
if  honest  liquors  were  sold  to  the  people  instead  of  noxious 
drugs." 

Sebastien  Douay  heard  him  attentively. 

"  That  is  your  theory," — he  said — "  You  may  be  right. 
Again — you  may  be  wrong!  I  know  men — and  women  too 
— who  love  poison!  It  is  to  them  what  you  call  ambrosia. 
No  one  can  do  anything  to  stop  this  craving.  All  the  kings 
— all  the  popes — all  the  preaching — all  the  prayer — no  use! 
No  use,  my  friend !  "  and  he  laid  one  hand  kindly  on  Ever- 
ton's  arm, — "  Once  upon  a  time  the  leetle  priest — like  my- 
self— could  do  something.  The  Church  Catholique  had  its 
terrors.  It  could  frighten  the  bad  man.  Hell  on  one  side 
— Heaven  on  the  other!  Now — all  no  use!  No  one  be- 
lieves any  more  in  Hell  or  Heaven!  Each  poor  ignorant 
man  makes  his  '  new  theology '  to  his  own  liking.  The  only 
God  that  is  served  in  to-day's  Church,  press  and  politique 
is— Self!" 

His  voice  quivered — and  his  features  grew  dark  with  a 
shadow  of  stern  sorrow. 

"  Mistaire  Everton,"  he  continued,  raising  his  eyes  with 
an  almost  pathetic  wistfulness — "  I  have  know  what  it  is 
to  love  my  little  parish — my  small  village  in  France,  to 
which  I  shall  return  no  more.  I  loved  the  men  and  women 
— the  leetle  children, — my  heart  opened  over  them  like  the 
wings  of  a  bird  that  would  shelter  its  young.  I  prayed  day 
and  night  that  I  might  help  to  make  them  as  God  would 
have  them  to  be, — the  men  noble,  the  women  pure, — the 
maidens  innocent, — the  children  happy!  See  how  my  prayer 
is  answered!  I  am  turned  away  from  them  altogether — 
I  wander  here  in  England  where  I  am  told  the  Catholique 
faith  will  again  rule  as  of  old — but  I  much  doubt  it! — and 
maybe  they  will  give  me  a  leetle  church  presently.  But  it 
will  not  be  my  home — and  they  will  not  be  my  people.  And 
I  have  no  more  hopes  of  doing  good — no,  none  at  all!  I 
will  not  expect  to  reform  the  drunkard — my  good  sir,  that 
is  imposs-eeble !  Nor  will  I  expect  to  make  the  brewers  and 
the  spirit  distillers  honest  men — that  is  more  imposs-eeble 
still !  I  have  tried  many  ways  of  serving  the  people — all  no 
use! — now  I  am  content  to  do  very  little — scarcely  nothing 


86 

at  all — I  say  my  prayers — I  look  at  nature — I  hear  the  birds 
sing — and  I  have  pity — ah,  rnon  Dieu! — what  pity  I  have 
for  every  living  soul !  " 

There  was  something  quite  thrilling  in  the  intense  melan- 
choly of  his  tone  as  he  spoke — and  Everton  was  strangely 
moved. 

"  Yet  we  must  believe," — he  said,  slowly — "  that  all  will 
be  well!" 

"Yes — we  must  believe!" — and  Douay's  face  brightened 
once  more  into  a  kindly  smile — "We  must  believe — you  in 
your  way,  and  I  in  mine!  And  not  till  some  great  sorrow 
breaks  our  hearts  shall  we  know  how  much  our  belief  is 
worth,  my  friend !  Good-by !  We  must  meet  again !  " 

"We  must  indeed!"  replied  Everton  eagerly — "I  shall 
call  and  see  you " 

"  Do!  You  will  always  find  me  in  at  the  hour  of  the 
Angelus — for  then  I  say  a  prayer  for  my  little  parish  in 
France, — so  far  away!  " 

He  smiled  again,  but  there  was  a  suspicious  gleam  of 
something  like  tears  in  his  eyes.  Another  cordial  pressure 
of  Everton's  hand  and  he  had  gone, — walking  briskly  down 
the  road  into  the  village  between  a  double  row  of  leafless 
elms  which  made  Gothic  cathedral  arches  of  their  brown 
branches  against  the  now  cloudless  blue  of  the  quiet  sky. 
Everton  looked  after  his  retreating  figure  for  some  minutes, 
absorbed  in  thought.  A  curious  sudden  sense  of  desolation 
oppressed  him, — a  dreary  conviction  of  the  futility  of  things 
— of  the  waste  of  honest  effort;  of  the  vanity  and  folly  of 
trying  to  do  good  when  good  was  so  often  swept  away  and 
overcome. 

"  Now  there  is  a  man," — he  said  to  himself,  reverting  to 
the  disappearing  Douay, — "  who  evidently  loved  the  work 
he  had  to  do  in  his  own  country.  He  was  satisfied  with  his 
little  parish — he  was  not  for  ever  asking,  as  I  am,  whether 
a  little  parish  was  wide  enough  for  his  energies; — he  loved 
his  people,  and  he  was  no  doubt  a  friend  to  them — and  yet 
— apparently  his  efforts  are  all  so  much  lost  time!  And 
I — am  I  any  better  than  he?  Suppose  I  were  to  wear  out 
my  heart  and  brain  to  shreds  in  trying  to  purge  this  one 
village  of  its  besetting  evil,  drink — I  should  never  do  it — 
never!  I  am  no  worker  of  miracles,  and  all  the  edds  are 


HOLY     ORDERS  87 

against  me.  What  use  am  I?  Will  God  ever  give  suffi- 
cient power  into  my  hands  to  save  a  single  human  creature? 
Almost  I  doubt  it!" 

He  turned  and  walked  slowly  back  to  the  Vicarage,  and 
as  he  entered  the  hall,  his  wife  tripped  forward  to  meet 
him. 

"  Oh,  Dick,  what  a  funny  looking  little  foreigner  that 
man  was !  "  she  exclaimed — "  I  saw  him  gesticulating  be- 
side you  in  the  churchyard.  Is  he  a  clergyman  ?  " 

"  Yes — but  not  one  of  our  faith," — Everton  replied — 
"  He  is  a  Roman  Catholic  priest." 

"And  whatever  is  he  doing  here?"  queried  Azalea., 
slipping  a  coaxing  hand  through  her  husband's  arm — "  I 
don't  believe  there's  a  single  Roman  Catholic  in  Shad- 
brook." 

Richard  smiled. 

"  Well,  it's  not  likely  he  came  to  look  after  any  stray 
sheep  on  the  Cotswolds," — he  answered — "  They're  too 
scattered  for  that.  He  had  some  interest  in  seeing  the 
church — which,  of  course,  used  to  be  a  Roman  Catholic  one. 
He  is  exiled  from  France — or  at  any  rate  he  seems  to  con- 
sider himself  exiled — he  has  lost  his  living  out  there,  and  I 
suppose  he  is,  like  so  many  '  vagrant '  priests  in  England 
just  now,  waiting  orders  from  his  superiors.  He's  a  very 
good  chap — and  really,  Azalea.,  if  you  had  not  made  such 
a  point  of  my  not  doing  so,  I  should  have  asked  him  to 
luncheon." 

Azalea  made  a  round  O  of  her  pretty  mouth. 

"  A  Roman  Catholic  priest !  "  she  echoed  wonderingly — 
"  Would  you  really ,  Dick?  " 

"Why,  of  course  I  should!"  and  he  laughed— "  A 
Roman  Catholic  priest  wants  his  midday  meal  as  much  as 
any  Protestant  parson,  doesn't  he?  This  man  interested  me 
very  much — I  should  have  liked  a  good  long  talk  with  him." 

Azalea  made  no  remark.  She  knew  that  her  husband's 
lack  of  companionship  with  his  own  sex  was  one  of  the 
great  drawbacks  to  his  position  as  Vicar  of  Shadbrook, — 
and  there  was  a  little  twinge  of  self-reproach  in  her  heart, 
as  she  thought  that  had  it  not  been  for  her  remark  on  what 
she  considered  to  be  the  deficiencies  of  the  prospective  lunch- 
eon, he  would  have  had  some  slight  relaxation  from  the 


88  HOLY    ORDERS 

monotonous  routine  of  his  daily  life  in  exchanging  ideas  with 
a  possibly  amusing  and  intelligent  stranger.  And  she  watched 
him  with  an  odd  expression  of  childish  penitence  as  he 
glanced  at  the  clock. 

"  Half  an  hour  yet  before  we  sit  down  to  the  cold  mut- 
ton ! "  he  said  cheerily — "  Just  time  to  write  a  few  letters. 
No  more  news  of  the  Kiernans,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No — none," — she  replied,  conscious  of  a  certain  inward 
thankfulness  that  her  domestic  peace  had  not,  so  far,  been 
again  fluttered  by  the  worrying  complaints  and  demands  of 
troublesome  or  refractory  parishioners. 

Thereupon  he  went  into  his  study,  shutting  the  door 
gently  behind  him,  as  a  sign  that  he  wished  to  be  left  alone 
and  undisturbed. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WITHIN  the  solitude  of  his  own  room  Everton  gave 
himself  up  to  a  spell  of  quiet  thinking.  There  was 
time,  as  he  had  said  to  his  wife,  to  write  a  few  letters, — 
but  he  did  not  so  much  as  take  pen  in  hand  to  commence 
them.  Seated  in  his  desk  chair,  he  looked  almost  unsee- 
ingly  out  on  the  fair  garden  prospect  in  front  of  his  win- 
dows, and  began  wondering,  as  lately  he  had  often  won- 
dered, what  had  come  over  the  spirit  of  the  Church  of  Christ, 
that  it  should  apparently  find  itself  unequal  to  stand  against 
the  storm  of  materialism  and  atheism  which,  with  shock 
upon  shock,  had  of  recent  years  begun  to  batter  down  the 
formerly  strong  citadel  of  Faith.  With  an  acute  morbidity 
of  memory  he  counted  up  the  dozens  of  modern  '  sects  ' 
and  '  societies '  and  '  theologies '  which  nowadays  assume 
to  be  the  most  reliable  and  accurate  expositions  of  the 
'  Truth,' — and  with  a  deep  sigh,  wrung  from  his  very 
heart's  core,  he  realized  that  Pilate's  famous  question  to 
the  Divine  Crucified,  was  not  yet  answered. 

"  We  are  a  thousand  times  less  devout  and  less  earnest 
than  the  early  Christians," — he  said,  speaking  half  aloud, 
as  though  to  some  invisible  companion  of  his  meditations — 
"  Instead  of  growing  stronger,  we  have  grown  weaker; — 
instead  of  keeping  Christ's  teaching  pure  and  undefiled,  we 
have  overloaded  it  with  our  own  foolish  systems  till  it  is  like 
a  grain  of  gold  lost  in  a  million  tons  of  clay.  Happy 
were  those  who  in  the  past  could  suffer  for  Christ's  sake, 
and  testify  their  love  to  Him  by  the  witness  of  their  lives 
laid  down  for  the  honor  and  glory  of  His  Holy  Name! " 

He  rose  and  paced  the  room  slowly.  How  few  there 
were,  he  thought,  in  the  present  times,  who  would  endure 
the  slightest  personal  pain  or  inconvenience  with  joy  be- 
cause they  believed  Christ  had  ordained  it!  Like  a  vision- 
ary pageant  passing  before  the  eyes  of  his  fancy,  he  saw  the 
proud  and  self-confident  Heads  of  the  Church — both  Roman 

89 


90  HOLY     ORDERS 

Catholic  and  Protestant — arrogating  to  themselves  some- 
thing of  Divine  authority, — elated  with  their  own  impor- 
tance in  the  world  of  politics  and  society, — eager  to  obtain 
as  much  money  as  possible  for  the  furtherance  of  their  own 
several  systems,  and  heedless  whether  such  money  were 
wrested  from  the  pockets  of  the  poor  or  the  coffers  of  the 
rich, — indiscriminately  using  for  their  own  purposes  the 
supernatural  terrors  of  hells  and  heavens  of  their  own  inven- 
tion to  scare  the  ignorant  or  flatter  the  vain — and  he  asked 
himself  with  a  kind  of  passion  in  the  demand — "  Is  this 
Christ?  Is  it  what  He  came  to  teach — what  He  died  to 
emphasize  and  enforce  ?  "  And  the  answer  came  ringing 
clear  and  true  from  the  innermost  depths  of  his  conscience. 

"  No !  The  Creed  of  the  Churches  is  not  the  Creed  of 
Christ!  It  is  man's  work,  formulated  to  suit  the  craving 
of  man's  egotism — and  from  it  spring  a  thousand  weed-like 
sprouts  of  mysticism  and  so  called  *'  scientific  catechisms ' 
which  merely  confuse  the  poor  human  soul  and  lead  it 
deeper  and  ever  deeper  into  the  mire.  We  have  deserted 
the  plain  and  simple  teaching  of  Our  Lord  for  a  tangle  of 
perplexing  and  opposing  doctrines, — and  instead  of  helping 
to  guide  us  out  of  the  various  misrepresentations  that  tend 
to  disguise  His  Divine  command,  our  bishops  and  arch- 
bishops sit  silent  and  inert  amid  the  clamor  of  conflicting 
argument,  and  not  one  of  them  has  the  courage  to  pro- 
nounce in  his  own  person  one  straight  convincing  word 
which  might  silence  the  ww-Christian  uproar.  Surely  the 
days  are  upon  us  of  which  our  Saviour  spoke  when  He  said : 
— '  He  that  is  an  hireling  and  not  the  shepherd,  whose  own 
the  sheep  are  not,  seeth  the  wolf  coming  and  leaveth  the 
sheep  and  fleeth,  and  the  wolf  catcheth  them  and  scattereth 
the  sheep.'  And  in  this  sense  our  archbishops  and  bishops 
are  '  hirelings ' ;  for  the  wolf  is  devouring  the  fold !  " 

He  threw  himself  again  into  his  chair,  and  his  mind 
reverted  to  the  little  priest,  Sebastien  Douay,  who  had  said 
so  lightly  that  the  name  of  Christ  nowadays  was  "  une  con- 
venance — c'est  tout !  " 

"  He  must  think  it, — he  must  know  it — or  else  he  would 
not  say  it," — murmured  Everton — "  For  he  seems  a  simple- 
hearted  man  who  seeks  to  do  his  best,  and  who  probably  has 
done  his  best  in  his  service  to  his  own  Church.  And  it 


HOLY     ORDERS  91 

jts  evident  that  he  feels  the  futility  of  it  all, — the  impotence 
of  his  own  efforts — as  keenly  as  I  do !  " 

Here  the  flitting  memory  of  a  girl's  face  floated  before 
him;  the  brilliant,  beautiful  face  of  Jacynth  Miller,  with 
her  mutinous  eyes  and  curved  red  mouth — and  he  gave  an 
impatient  gesture  as  he  asked  himself  whether  he  could,  as 
the  Vicar  of  the  parish,  honestly  say  that  she  was  a  lover  of 
and  believer  in  Christ.  He  knew  he  could  not.  Yet  she 
attended  church  regularly, — and  in  outward  Sunday  observ- 
ance at  least,  she  was  a  follower  of  the  Christian  faith. 
But  in  her  inward  nature  she  was  a  positive  pagan,  whose 
'  creed  '  was  that  of  beauty,  sensuality,  and  the  purely  ani- 
mal enjoyment  of  life.  How  many  of  his  parishioners  were, 
according  to  their  several  tastes  and  inclinations,  in  a  pre- 
cisely similar  condition?  How  many,  if  put  to  the  test, 
would  be  willing  to  suffer  for  Christ's  sake?  Nay — how 
many — to  put  it  quite  roughly — would  be  ready  to  forego 
even  a  glass  of  beer,  if  asked  to  do  so  for  the  honor  and 
dignity  of  their  religion  as  Christians?  Probably  not  one! 
He  smiled  rather  drearily  at  the  thought.  For  his  difficult 
task  was  to  be  the  minister  of  the  most  noble  and  perfect 
Gospel  ever  enunciated  for  the  needs  of  man,  to  a  village 
community  whose  dearest  aims  in  life  were  high  wages  for 
as  little  labor  as  possible  and  as  much  drink  as  could  con- 
veniently be  swallowed  in  the  twenty-four  hours  of  the  day! 

"  I  shall  never  move  them  to  a  higher  view  of  things," 
— he  said — "  Nor  will  any  one.  Not  only  in  Shadbrook, 
but  all  over  the  Christian  world,  the  same  indifference  pre- 
vails— and  unless  the  '  hirelings  '  rouse  themselves  from  their 
shameful  lethargy  to  give  some  sort  of  an  honest  warning 
cry,  the  wolves  will  have  their  way.  Oh  for  the  power  of  a 
far-reaching  eloquence! — a  fiery  tongue  of  the  first  Pente- 
cost such  as  should  not  only  warn,  but  most  convincingly 
persuade! — and  oh,  that  God  would  only  help  me  in  my 
task  and  let  me  understand  to  the  full  the  meaning  of  His 
'Holy  Orders'!" 

His  eyes  flashed  and  his  face  grew  warm  with  the  light 
of  a  sudden  hope  and  inspiration, — then,  as  was  usually  the 
custom  whenever  he  yielded  to  any  touch  of  exalted  or 
impersonal  emotion,  the  Commonplace  asserted  itself  in  the 
ringing  of  the  luncheon  bell.  It  made  such  an  incongruous 


92  HOLY     ORDERS 

clashing  with  his  thoughts  that  he  laughed  at  himself  for 
having,  just  for  one  moment,  dreamed  of  great  things 
that  might  be  done  were  he  only  given  the  chance  to  do 
them.  And  then  with  a  serene  step  and  cheerful  counte- 
nance, he  went  to  his  cold  mutton  refection  and  listened 
patiently  for  more  than  an  hour  to  his  wife's  light  chatter 
about  various  domestic  affairs  which  to  her  were  the  prin- 
cipal aim  and  end  of  existence.  For  she  made  no  secret  of 
her  dislike  to  what  she  called  '  soul  talks.' 

"  I  know  it's  very  wrong," — she  would  declare,  with  a 
charmingly  repentant  look  at  her  husband  from  under  her 
soft,  up-curling  eyelashes — "  But  I  don't  really  care  a  bit 
about  anybody's  soul,  because  I  can't  understand  what  it  is. 
If  it  were  a  hand,  or  a  foot,  or  a  nose,  I  should,  of  course, 
want  to  take  care  of  it  and  not  lose  it,  but  a  '  soul ' ! — now, 
you  know,  Dick,  you  don't  know  very  well  yourself  what 
it  is!  It's  so  vague — so — so — uncatchable!"  She  laughed, 
and  was  not  at  all  checked  in  her  merriment  by  Richard's 
serious  glance  at  her.  "  It's  so  nice,"- — she  went  on — "  to 
look  at  the  picture  of  Psyche,  and  see  her  holding  the  little 
butterfly  in  her  hand, — she  did  catch  it! — she  must  have 
caught  it — but  even  in  the  picture  or  statue,  or  whatever 
it  is,  the  poor  '  soul '  is  half  dead  and  she's  warming  it  up 
to  life  again " 

"  I  think  you  mis-read  the  allegory,"  said  Everton,  gently 
— "  Psyche  herself  stands  for  the  Soul,  and  the  butterfly 
is — I  believe — I  may  be  wrong, — an  emblem  of  the  Life 
which  the  Soul  makes  immortal." 

"  Oh,  but  fancy  Life  itself  being  no  more  than  a  butter- 
fly! "  Azalea  exclaimed — "That  cant  be  right,  Dick! 
Anyhow,  whatever  it  is,  I  can't  feel  very  great  interest  in 
the  souls  of  people — I'm  not  much  taken  with  their  bodies, 
you  know! — their  bodies  are  too  awful,  sometimes, — and 
their  souls — well ! — oh !  I'd  rather  not  think  about  them !  " 

No  theological  argument  could  possibly  arise  out  of  these 
easy,  inconsequent  statements, — and  Everton  had  learned 
by  experience  not  to  expect  from  his  young  wife  what  was 
not  in  her  nature  to  give.  Sometimes  he  wished  that  she 
would  interest  herself  more  sympathetically  in  the  troubles 
and  needs  of  the  very  poorest  and  most  ailing  among  his 
parishioners, — but  he  found  that  her  fastidious  sense  of 


HOLY     ORDERS  95 

cleanliness  and  order  was  frequently  affected  almost  ta 
physical  nausea  by  the  dirt  and  slovenliness  of  such  unhappy 
human  creatures  as,  driven  by  sheer  incapacity  to  the  wall, 
had  fallen  into  the  desperate  condition  of  not  caring  for 
themselves  or  for  anybody  else,  so  that  it  seemed  a  kind  of 
cruelty  to  insist  on  sending  such  a  dainty  fairy-like  little 
woman  into  the  midst  of  hopeless  squalor  which  she  had 
neither  the  skill  nor  the  energy  to  relieve.  So  he  spared  her 
all  the  unpleasantness  he  could, — the  unpleasantness  of 
malodorous  sick-rooms  and  tortured  deathbeds, — and  only 
commissioned  her  now  and  then  to  take  a  few  flowers  to  a 
sick  child,  or  go  and  talk  to  a  moderately  clean  old  woman, 
reserving  for  himself  all  the  revolting  items  in  the  daily 
round  of  his  parish  duties.  In  his  tender  way  he  felt  he 
had  asked  her  to  do  quite  an  exceptional  thing  in  visiting 
the  bruised  and  battered  Jennie  Kiernan, — and  that  she  had 
so  readily  and  gently  acceded  to  his  wish  was  something 
of  a  grateful  surprise  to  him.  For  he  knew  the  truth  of 
what  she  had  often  asserted, — namely,  that  she  was  not  fitted 
to  be  a  clergyman's  wife, — she  was  too  pretty.  Old  '  Mor- 
tar '  Pike  had  once,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  said  she  re- 
minded him  of  a  "  Christmas  pantomime  gel — one  o'  them 
daffadown  dillies  as  comes  up  through  a  'ole  in  the  stage 
all  dressed  in  sparkles,  a-bowin'  an'  a-smilin'  as  though  the 
world  was  a  box  o'  sweeties."  Everton,  on  hearing  this 
description  of  his  wife,  had  emphatically  demurred  to  it — 
yet  in  his  heart  he  knew  there  was  a  substratum  of  truth  in 
the  fanciful  comparison.  He  could  not,  by  way  of  denial, 
say  that  Azalea's  looks  belied  her,  and  that  her  childlike 
and  frivolous  external  appearance  covered  a  profundity  of 
unuttered  wisdom.  For  he  was  perfectly  aware  that  the 
pretty  little  creature  was  what  her  charming  face  and 
figure  expressed  her  to  be — just  a  pretty  little  creature,  and 
no  more.  But  he  loved  her  prettiness  with  all  the  passion 
of  a  man  in  whom  passion  was  often  strongly  repressed,  and 
he  found  an  exquisite  pleasure  in  watching  the  rosy  color 
flush  her  cheeks,  or  the  sunshine  play  upon  her  gold  hair, 
— she  was  all  the  beauty  of  woman  for  him  in  one  dainty 
bundle  of  tender  and  fragrant  charms, — his  very  own  to 
caress  and  to  adore, — and  when  the  graver  work  of  the  day 
was  done  and  he  felt  himself  free  to  unbind  his  soul  from  its 


94  HOLY     ORDERS 

spiritual  armor,  it  was  with  a  speechless  sense  of  gratitude 
to  God  that  he  drew  Azalea  into  his  arms  and  pressed  her 
soft  little  head  '  sunning  over  with  curls  '  against  his  heart. 
Then  it  was  that  he  was  conscious  of  the  joys  of  manhood, 
and  frankly  confessed  himself  too  weak  to  be  a  comrade  of 
angels. 

On  this  day,  however,  his  ordinarily  kind  and  buoyant 
humor  was  not  so  spontaneous  as  usual, — and  whether  it 
was  the  cold  mutton  at  luncheon  or  some  other  equally 
depressing  influence  in  the  atmosphere,  it  is  certain  that  both 
he  and  the  light-hearted  Azalea  herself  were  silent  and  more 
or  less  preoccupied.  Azalea  was  thinking  of  the  Kiernans 
and  of  Jacynth  Miller — Everton  was  absorbed  in  somewhat 
gloomy  speculations  as  to  the  fate  of  the  Churches  in  Eng- 
land. The  cold  mutton  came  and  went,  replaced  by  rice 
pudding  and  stewed  apples, — altogether  plain  and  whole- 
some fare,  but  of  a  nature  scarcely  tending  to  exhilarate  the 
spirits.  Azalea  shivered  a  little. 

"  It's  quite  chilly !  " — she  declared — "  Really  I  don't 
wonder  that  people  abuse  the  English  climate." 

"  I  daresay  every  man  abuses  his  own  climate,  if  we  only 
knew  it," — answered  Everton,  smiling — "  One  of  the  un- 
fortunate results  of  the  way  our  press  is  conducted  is  that 
we  always  know  exactly  how  we  feel  about  rain,  fog  or 
snow — but  we  don't  hear  what  the  Italian  or  the  French- 
man thinks  of  his  particular  drawbacks.  For  you  may  de- 
pend upon  it  there's  no  climate  quite  perfect." 

"  Think  of  sunny  Italy !  "  she  sighed,  with  a  little  senti- 
mental uplifting  of  her  eyebrows. 

"  Sunny  Italy !  I  never  felt  the  cold  more  cruelly  in- 
tense than  in  Florence," — he  answered — "  and  when  the 
east  wind  ran  through  me  like  a  knife,  while  the  sun  blazed 
down  on  me  like  a  furnace,  I  felt  that  I  had  been  distinctly 
cheated  by  all  the  poets  and  romancists  that  ever  made  Italy 
a  peg  to  hang  their  ragged  enthusiasms  upon!  I  believe 
Italy  had  a  lovely  climate  once,  before  her  foolish  people 
took  to  cutting  down  the  forests  and  clearing  the  wooded 
summits  which  broke  the  force  of  the  wind — but  now! — 
my  dear  Azalea,  believe  me,  you  are  ever  so  much  warmer 
in  England  than  you  would  be  in  the  misnamed  '  City  of 
Flowers.' " 


HOLY     ORDERS  95 

Azalea  played  a  dumb  tune  with  her  fingers  on  the  table- 
cloth. 

"  I  should  like  to  travel  a  little," — she  said,  suddenly — 
"  I  wonder  if  I  could  find  some  rich  woman  to  take  me 
with  her  as  a  companion  for  a  couple  of  months  ?  " 

A  coldness  fell  on  his  heart.  He  was  curiously  aston- 
ished and  vaguely  hurt  that  she  should  entertain  even  the 
idea  of  wishing  to  go  away  from  him.  But  he  gave  no 
sign  of  his  inward  pain. 

"What  of  Baby  Laurence?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"  Oh,  Nurse  could  manage  him  splendidly," — she  replied 
merrily — "  He's  too  young  to  miss  me, — and  she  knows 
more  about  him  than  I  do." 

He  was  silent,  controlling  the  desire  which  impelled  him 
to  press  his  own  personal  claim  on  her  thought.  At  that 
moment  the  servant  entered,  bringing  a  note  marked  '  Im- 
mediate.' He  opened  it  and  read: 

"  Come  at  once  to  Hadley's  cottage.  Bob  is  dying.  He 
can't  last  out  an  hour. — H.  BRAND."" 

With  an  exclamation  of  pity,  he  handed  the  message  to 
his  wife  and  rose  at  once  from  the  lunch  table. 

"  Poor  Bob !  "  he  said — "  Perhaps  it  is  as  well  for  him 
that  the  end  is  near.  He  has  suffered  cruelly." 

Azalea,  made  no  reply.  Her  cheeks  had  suddenly  paled, 
and  her  lips  trembled.  Whenever  her  husband  was  called 
to  attend  a  deathbed,  she  grew  frightened  and  full  of  nerv- 
ous terrors.  She  hated  the  very  suggestion  of  death  and 
recoiled  from  it  with  all  the  shrinking  hesitation  of  a  timid 
child  who  fears  to  enter  a  dark  room  without  a  candle. 
Just  at  this  moment  she  felt  she  ought  to  say  something 
compassionate  and  sympathetic,  but  no  words  would  come. 
She  could  only  follow  Richard  meekly  out  of  the  dining- 
room  into  the  study,  and  watch  him  with  large  scared  blue 
eyes  as  he  made  the  necessary  preparations  for  his  mournful 
task,  taking  up  his  Testament  and  Prayers  for  the  Dying. 
With  these  in  his  hand  he  came  and  kissed  her. 

"  Good-by,  darling !  "  he  murmured,  fondly — "  Now 
don't  look  so  wretched!  You  know  I  must  go  and  try  to 
give  comfort  to  this  poor  departing  soul " 

She  hid  her  face  against  his  arm. 

"  Yes — I   know !  " — she   answered,   with  a  kind   of   half 


96  HOLY     ORDERS 

sob — "  But — but  I  always  feel  the  same  about  all  these 
kind  of  things — it's  so  awful!  And — and — sometimes  con- 
sumptive people  like  Bob  Hadley  die  very  hard — and 
struggle  so  much ! — it's  so  terrible  for  you  to  have  to  watch 
him » 

He  stroked  her  soft  hair  caressingly. 

"  No,  dear,  it's  not  so  terrible  as  you  think," — he  said 
gently — "  God  is  very  good, — He  will  not  let  the  dying 
suffer  more  than  they  are  able " 

"  Why  does  He  let  them  suffer  at  all  ?  "  she  demanded 
almost  angrily,  raising  her  head  and  flashing  a  defiant  glance 
at  him  through  her  tear-wet  lashes — "  It's  all  so  absurd  and 
cruel!  None  of  the  poor  people  in  this  world  ever  asked  to 
be  born — and  they're  all  so  ignorant  they  don't  know  what 
to  do  for  the  best,  and  I  think  it's  hard  to  make  them  suffer 
for  what  they  can't  help!  " 

"  Dear  little  woman !  "  he  said  soothingly — "  You  mustn't 
talk  so  wildly !  Of  course  I  know  it's  all  your  kind  heart — 
you  are  such  a  tender,  affectionate  little  mortal  that  you 
can't  bear  to  think  of  any  one  in  pain.  But  everything  is 
for  the  best,  Azalea! — even  suffering.  As  a  true  Christian, 
you  must  believe  that." 

"  It's  horrid  for  you  to  have  to  go  and  see  Bob  Hadley 
die!"  she  replied,  inconsequently. 

He  had  nothing  to  say  to  this.  Stooping,  he  kissed  her 
again  and  left  her. 

"It  is  horrid!"  she  repeated  emphatically  to  the  empty 
room, — and,  running  to  the  window,  she  watched  him  walk- 
ing quickly  through  the  garden  on  his  way  to  the  village — 
"  I  don't  care  what  anybody  says!  It's  horrid  to  be  a 
clergyman — for  nobody  ever  believes  he  thinks  or  lives  ac- 
cording to  his  preaching.  He's  looked  upon  as  a  humbug 
all  round,  no  matter  how  true  and  sincere  he  is.  If  I  had 
been  a  man  I  would  never  have  gone  into  the  Church — 
never!  I'd  have  been  a  soldier  or  a  sailor!" — here  she 
clenched  her  little  fist  and  looked  exceedingly  pugnacious — 
"  It's  much  more  natural  to  fight  people  than  to  go  about 
trying  to  love  them,  when  they  are  most  of  them  as  dis- 
tinctly unlovable  as  they  can  be!  Look  at  Shadbrook! 
There's  not  a  creature  in  it  worth  seeing  twice!  And  I'm 
sure — quite  sure — that  when  Dick  knows  what  has  been 


HOLY     ORDERS  97 

going  on  between  Dan  Kiernan  and  Jacynth  Miller,  and 
how  all  the  village  has  kept  him  in  the  dark  about  it,  he'll 
be  disgusted — simply  disgusted  with  the  whole  parish !  And 
no  wonder ! " 

This  little  soliloquy  over,  she  felt  relieved, — and  pres- 
ently reflecting  on  the  nature  of  her  husband's  immediate 
errand,  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  certainly  it  was  a 
good  thing  Bob  Hadley  should  die  and  cease  to  be  a  trouble 
and  expense  to  his  mother. 

"  For  consumption  is  infectious,  and  it  might  spread 
through  the  village  if  he  were  not  taken  away  as  soon  as 
possible," — she  thought — "  And  I  shall  not  know  much 
about  it  all — for  Dick  never  tells  me  anything  that  is  really 
unpleasant,  because  he  knows  I  don't  like  it." 

This  was  quite  true.  Whatever  scenes  of  wretchedness 
Everton  was  confronted  with  in  the  exercise  of  his  duties, 
he  never  allowed  his  wife  to  hear  anything  that  might  put 
her  to  unnecessary  pain,  or  cause  her  possible  distress  of 
mind.  In  his  extreme  delicacy  or  thought  for  her  he  for- 
got, or  rather  he  had  never  realized,  that  she  was  not  of  a 
temperament  to  feel  pain  where  it  did  not  personally  con- 
cern her,  and  that  she  was  the  very  last  of  creatures  in  the 
world  to  suffer  from  mental  anxiety  on  behalf  of  any  one 
outside  her  own  small  domestice  circle.  She  had  all  the  pretty 
egotism  of  a  kitten  which  thinks  that  every  ball  of  worsted 
in  the  world  is  made  specially  for  it  to  play  with, — and  it 
was  just  this  kittenish  charm  that  saved  her  from  being 
called  openly  selfish. 

Everton  meanwhile  made  the  best  of  his  walking  speed 
to  arrive  as  quickly  as  he  could  on  the  scene  to  which  he 
had  been  so  hastily  summoned.  '  Hadley  Cottage,'  as  it 
was  commonly  called,  was  situated  at  the  extreme  end  of 
'  old '  Shadbrook,  and  stood  somewhat  removed  from  the 
high-road  with  its  back  set  against  the  green  slope  of  a 
wooded  hill.  Two  of  its  small  latticed  windows  were  open, 
and  through  these  there  came  a  dreadful  sound  of  incessant 
groaning,  broken  by  sharp  fierce  cries  of, — 

"Jacynth!  Jacynth!  Hold  her!  Keep  her  fast  where 
she  is !  Don't  let  her  go !  " 

The  Vicar  heard, — and  his  face  grew  very  grave.  He 
knocked  at  the  door,  which  was  opened  for  him  at  once  by, 


98 

a  gray-haired  woman  whose  eyes  were  red  and  swollen  with 
crying,  and  who  at  the  mere  sight  of  him  broke  into  fresh 
tears. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Everton,  my  boy!"  she  sobbed — "My  poor, 
poor  boy!  He's  going  fast! — oh,  he's  going  away  from  me! 
And  he  doesn't  know  me — his  own  mother! — he  won't  look 
at  me — he  only  calls  for  Jacynth,  Jacynth  all  the  time! 
And  she  came  to  see  him  last  night  and  stayed  with  him  an 
hour, — and  he's  been  like  mad  ever  since — just  like  mad! 
And  early  this  morning  he  broke  a  blood-vessel  with  cough- 
ing— and  we  sent  for  the  doctor  and  he's  been,  and  he's 
coming  back  again  directly — but  it's  all  no  use — no  use! 
Oh,  what  shall  I  do!— what  shall  I  do!" 

Everton  pressed  her  hand  gently,  but  said  nothing.  He 
was  accustomed  to  scenes  of  despair  among  the  poor;  and 
he  knew  by  sad  experience  that  though,  when  in  health,  they 
have  the  habit  of  talking  about  death  when  it  comes  to 
others,  as  though  it  were  the  most  congenial  of  themes  for 
conversation,  they  are  invariably  taken  aback  and  shaken 
from  their  ground  altogether  when  the  real  Terror  visits 
their  own  homes.  Quietly  he  entered  the  cottage  and 
stepped  into  the  little  room  where  the  dying  man  lay — a 
room  that  had  grown  sadly  familiar  to  him  during  the  past 
six  months,  for  in  the  round  of  his  ministrations  to  the  sick 
he  had  never  missed  a  daily  visit  to  Bob  Hadley,  partly 
on  account  of  the  hopeless  nature  of  the  sufferer's  disease, 
and  partly  because  the  poor  fellow  had  shown  so  much 
patience  and  courage  in  combating  with  the  inevitable.  He 
was  only  twenty-two  years  old — and  through  much  pain  and 
mental  anguish,  had  displayed  a  martyr's  quiet  heroism  and 
resignation — never  complaining  of  the  fate  that  was  re- 
lentlessly cutting  the  thread  of  his  life  ere  he  had  time  to 
weave  it  into  a  useful  pattern,  and  always  expressing  such 
a.  cheery  faith  in  God  and  a  future  immortal  existence,  that 
Everton  had  grown  to  look  upon  him  as  a  kind  of  lesson 
to  himself  and  others, — a  model  example  of  the  strength 
which  is  spiritually  bestowed  on  those  who  in  the  crucial 
moment  of  adversity  fix  their  faith  unswervingly  on  the  sav- 
ing power  of  the  Divine.  Therefore  he  was  painfully 
startled  when,  instead  of  the  humble  and  docile  youth  who 
had  listened  for  many  weeks  so  gratefully  to  his  kindly 
teaching,  and  who  had  repeated  prayers  after  him  with  all 


HOLY     ORDERS  99 

the  devout  simplicity  of  a  child,  he  saw  before  him  a  gaunt 
specter  with  a  face  of  desperate  agony — a  strange  distorted 
creature,  sitting  half  upright  on  a  bed  that  had  become  a 
mere  tangled  heap  of  clothes  in  the  tossing  to  and  fro  of  the 
feverish  body  upon  it, — a  wild  non-human  thing  with  blaz- 
ing eyes  and  raving  mouth  which  shrieked  incessantly, — 

"Jacynth!  Jacynth!  Hold  her!  See  where  she  goes! 
Will  no  one  stop  her?  Running,  running,  running — look 
— look! — running  straight  into  Hell!  Jacynth!  Jacynth! 
All  the  devils  at  her! — tearing  her  lovely  body — her  lovely 
body  that  God  made!  God!  Ha-ha!  I  like  that!  God  I 
There's  no  God !  There  never  was !  It's  all  a  lie !  " 

Pale  to  the  lips,  Everton  moved  close  up  to  the  bed  and 
tried  to  get  an  arm  round  the  writhing,  twisting  form. 

"  Bob !  "  he  said,  in  a  low,  kind  voice — "  Bob !  Don't  you 
know  me?  " 

The  wild  eyes  rolled  round  in  their  sockets — presently 
they  fixed  him  with  a  glassy  stare. 

"  It's  the  parson ! "  and,  with  a  supreme  effort,  Bob  Had- 
ley  flung  out  his  gaunt  arms  and  hands  as  though  to  keep 
Everton  off — "  You've  come  to  see  the  last  of  me,  have  you? 
Well!  I'm  glad!  I'm  glad  you've  come!  " 

Exhausted,  he  sank  back  upon  his  pillows,  breathing  hard 
and  fast.  His  mother  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  watch- 
ing him  in  speechless  terror. 

"  I'm  glad," — he  repeated,  thickly — "  I'm  glad  you've 
come !  I — I  want  to  speak  to  you — alone !  Mother !  " 

Thankful  to  be  recognized,  the  poor  woman  hastened  to 
his  side.  With  extreme  difficulty  he  lifted  his  head  and 
kissed  her. 

"That's  the  last  good-by!"— he  said— "Take  it!  I'm 
sorry  not  to  have  been  a  more  useful  son  to  you.  Now  go! 
I  want  to  be  left  alone — alone — with  him!" 

He  indicated  the  Vicar  by  an  imperative  sign.  With  a 
wild  outbreak  of  pitiful  sobs  and  tears,  his  mother  turned 
and  tottered  out  of  the  room,  and  Everton,  deeply  moved, 
and  feeling  that  the  final  moments  of  this  poor  fighting  life 
had  come,  knelt  down  by  the  bedside.  Scarcely  had  he  done 
so  when  a  burning  hand  caught  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Get  up  from  that !  "  said  the  dying  man,  in  a  weak, 
fierce  whisper — "Don't  pray!  It's  no  use!" 

There  was  something  so  intensely  horrible  in  the  manner 


ioo  HOLY     ORDERS 

of  his  utterance  that  Everton  could  find  no  words  where- 
with to  answer  him,  and  could  only  gaze  at  him  in  stupefied 
amazement. 

"  It's  no  use,  I  tell  you  I  "  Hadley  went  on — "  With  my 
last  breath  I  want  to  make  you  remember  that !  It's  no  use! 
I  want — I  want  to  ask  you  why  you  have  told  me  so  many 
lies?  Get  up  from  your  knees!  Stand  like  a  man  and 
answer  me!  " 

Slowly,  and  as  if  impelled  by  some  stronger  force  than 
his  own  Everton  stood  up.  A  vague  impalpable  Shadow 
seemed  rising  before  him — a  dumb,  recording  witness  of  his 
words. 

"  I  have  told  you  no  lies,  Hadley," — he  said,  in  a  voice 
of  steady  tenderness  and  sweetness — "  I  have  never  tricked 
you!  I  have  taught  you  to  the  best  of  my  poor  ability  the 
truth  of  Christ's  saving  message  to  mankind,  and  I  have 
striven  to  express  to  you  the  blessing  of  His  love  and  pity  for 
us  all.  Your  mind  is  clouded  by  physical  pain,  my  poor  boy, 
or  you  would  never  say  there  is  no  use  in  prayer.  Let  me 
try  to  prove  to  you  how  very  close  God  is  to  us  both  at  this 
moment — so  close  that  He  can  make  death  itself  seem 
easy- " 

"  Death !  I  care  nothing  for  that !  I  want  to  die !  "  and 
Hadley's  features  hardened,  so  that  the  pallid  skin  of  his 
face  looked  like  an  ivory  mask  carved  into  a  frown  of 
reckless  despair — "  Death  is  the  end  of  all  things,  and  I 
want  all  things  to  end!  I  want  to  get  out  of  the  ruck  for 
good  and  all!  It's  life  that  matters!  Jacynth's  alive!" 
His  eyes  protruded  in  a  kind  of  fury — he  struggled  for 
breath.  Everton  supported  him  in  his  arms,  and  he  fought 
inch  by  inch  for  the  power  of  speech. 

"  She's  alive! — she's  all  soft  flesh  and  blood,  and  lovely 
to  touch  and  to  look  at — and  I've  prayed  for  her — prayed — 
prayed — prayed! — and  the  tyrant  you  call  God  is  deaf  and 
blind  and  impotent!  He  has  done  nothing — He  has  looked 
on  and  laughed  while  she  went  to  her  damnation!"  His 
weak  voice  rose  to  a  kind  of  scream.  "  And  you  say  God 
is  good!  That  He  loves  us?  It's  a  lie!  No  good  God 
would  have  left  Jacynth  alone — He  would  have  saved  her! 
— He  would  have  saved  her — from " 

His  voice  stopped, — his  whole  frame  was  shaken  by  an 


HOLY     ORDERS  101 

agonized  convulsion.  He  mastered  the  paroxysm  by  an  al- 
most superhuman  effort,  and  went  on  talking,  or  rather  mut- 
tering in  fitful  gasps — 

"  A  world — a  world !  "  he  said — "  A  world  to  live  in  like 
this  where  men  are  made  to  feel! — to  feel  their  hearts  cry 
out  for  love — love — love! — and  then — then — you  come 
along — you  and  your  kind, — preaching  Christ, — and  telling 
us  that  our  passions  are  sins!  Sins!  Why  then,  the  beasts 
and  the  birds  are  better  off  than  we  are, — no  one  curses 
them  for  mating — and  the  God  you  talk  about  seems  to  care 
for  them  even  more  than  He  cares  for  us,  for  they're  ever 
so  much  freer  and  happier.  Love,  I  say! — love! — it's 
what  the  Lord  Christ  never  knew — it's  what  He  missed — 
love  for  a  woman ! — and  there  He  fails  to  be  our  brother  in 
sorrow !  " 

Everton  tried  to  speak,  but  Hadley's  desperate  struggle 
with  his  own  rapidly  increasing  weakness  was  so  terrible  to 
witness  that  he  was  held  silent  despite  himself. 

"  Don't  preach,  but  listen !  " — went  on  the  thin,  wild 
voice — "  You'll  have  years  of  talking  yet — I've  only  got 
minutes.  Jacynth — she  came  to  see  me — last  night — I 
touched  her  hair — her  face — I  held  her  in  my  arms — that's 
all  the  Heaven  I  want — and  I'm  willing  to  go  to  Hell  for 
it!  But  she — she's  lost — lost! — try  if  you  can  do  anything 
— save  her  from  herself — from  the  shame " 

Writhing  out  of  Everton's  arms  he  fell  back  on  his  pil- 
lows, and  a  strange  awed  stare  froze  within  his  eyeballs  and 
turned  his  features  to  the  semblance  of  gray  marble.  Moved 
by  a  speechless  pain  and  sorrow,  the  Vicar  once  more  dropped 
upon  his  knees. 

"O  merciful  Father!"  he  cried  aloud— "  Let  Thy  light 
shine  upon  this  passing  soul  that  it  may  see  the  glory  beyond 
the  gloom,  and  know  Thee  as  Thou  art  in  all  They  love  and 
wisdom  I  Say  unto  this  storm  of  life :  '  Peace,  be  still ! ' 
and  let  there  be  a  great  calm ! " 

The  stony  face  upon  the  bed  seemed  to  fix  him  with  a 
last  entreating  look — the  ashen  lips  moved. 

"Save  Jacynth!" — and  the  words  came  feebly  like  a 
breath  upon  the  air — "Give  her — give  her — my  love!" 

A  tense  stillness  followed, — and  Everton,  burying  his  face 
in  his  hands,  prayed  long  and  earnestly.  When  he  rose,  he 


102  HOLY     ORDERS 

knew  he  was  alone  with  a  dead  man.  Reverently  closing 
the  glazing  eyes  of  the  corpse,  he  went  out  of  the  room  and 
gently  told  the  weeping  mother  that  her  son  was  '  at  rest.' 
His  lips  trembled  as  he  uttered  the  words,  for  in  his  own 
heart  he  felt  they  were  scarcely  true.  Young  Hadley  had 
passed  from  life  to  death  in  a  condition  of  mind  which  reli- 
gion itself  had  no  chance  to  improve  or  sustain — and  Ever- 
ton  was  too  honest  with  himself  to  disguise  the  fact.  Every 
grain  of  faith  and  resignation  and  hope  had  been  swept  away 
like  dust  before  the  wind  by — what?  Merely  the  beauty 
of  a  woman!  The  loveliness  of  smiling  flesh  and  blood, 
which  the  dying  man  had  coveted  to  the  last  moment  of  his 
conscious  existence — and  there  was  no  sort  of  '  heaven '  in 
the  craving — only  a  very  real  and  positive  hell. 

"  I  did  wrong," — thought  Everton,  miserably — "  I  did  a 
very  wrong  and  foolish  thing  in  persuading  Jacynth  to  go 
and  visit  the  poor  unhappy  fellow — I  ought  to  have  known 
better;  the  mere  sight  of  her  completely  unsettled  his  mind." 

Unable  to  bear  his  own  reflections,  and  distressed  beyond 
measure  by  the  hysterical  breakdown  of  Mrs.  Hadley,  who, 
like  the  woman  in  the  Testament,  was  a  widow,  and  her 
dead  boy  '  the  only  son  of  his  mother/  he  soon  left  the 
cottage,  and  resolved  to  take  a  brisk  walk  of  a  mile  or  two 
before  returning  home  to  show  a  more  or  less  grieved  counte- 
nance to  his  wife  who  could  not  patiently  endure  even  the 
shadow  of  trouble.  He  had  scarcely  gone  a  few  yards  be- 
yond the  village,  however,  before  he  was  met  and  confronted 
by  the  very  person  who,  despite  himself,  was  uppermost  in 
his  thoughts, — Jacynth  Miller.  She  was  a  little  breathless, 
as  though 'she  had  been  running,  and  her  cheeks  were  beau- 
tifully flushed  with  the  delicate  pink  of  an  opening  rose. 

"  Mr.  Everton," — she  began — and  then  stopped,  checked 
by  the  stern  gravity  of  his  expression.  A  warmer  crimson 
reddened  her  face  and  her  eyes  flashed  a  sudden  challenge. 
"  Is  anything  wrong  ?  " 

"  Nothing," — he  answered  coldly — "  Only  that  I  have 
just  come  from  Bob  Hadley's  deathbed." 

She  looked  puzzled  for  a  moment.  Everton  found  hin> 
self  studying  the  droop  of  a  few  flowers  which  were  care- 
lessly pinned  at  the  open  neck  of  her  blue  bodice — a  bodice 
too  blue,  so  he  thought,  and  much  too  open  for  day  wear 


HOLY     ORDERS  103 

on  a  March  afternoon.  She  caught  his  glance,  and  a  wav- 
ering smile  trembled  on  her  lips. 

"  Is  Bob  dead  ?  "  she  then  asked,  with  sudden  pitifulness 
—"Really  dead?" 

He  bent  his  head  silently. 

"Did  you  see  him  die?" 

Again  he  made  a  dumb  affirmative  sign. 

"Poor  Bob!  I  wish  I  had  been  there!"  she  said,  and 
an  odd  expression  of  self-rapture  illumined  her  features — 
"  He  was  so  fond  of  me,  that  I  am  sure  he  would  have 
taken  me  for  his  guardian  angel  just  come  to  fetch  him  to 
Heaven!" 

She  uttered  these  words  in  the  most  natural  way  in  the 
world,  and  for  a  moment  he  gazed  at  her  in  mute  wonder- 
ment. Then  he  spoke,  and  for  once  his  usual  sweetness  of 
manner  failed  him. 

"  No  doubt  he  would !  " — and  his  voice  shook, — "  Sick 
men  are  often  the  victims  of  delusion !  " 

She  laughed  softly. 

"  It's  nice  to  be  deluded !  " — she  said — "  It's  pleasant  to 
be  told  pretty  things,  especially  when  one's  ill.  I'm  sure 
poor  Bob  died  hard, — and  I  would  have  made  his  death 
quite  easy!  It  seems  so  strange  to  think  that  he's  gone! — 
I  was  with  him  last  night  for  an  hour — you  told  me  to  go 
and  see  him! — and  he  was  ever  so  happy,  and  he  asked  me 
to  kiss  him,  and  I  did.  He  wanted  to  die  then — just  that 
very  minute!  " 

Everton  took  a  sudden  grip  of  his  own  mental  forces. 

"  I  am  sorry," — he  said — "  very  sorry,  Jacynth,  that  I 
asked  you  to  go  and  see  him.  For  I  think  your  visit  was 
the  immediate  cause  of  his  death.  And  wrhen  I  went  to 
him  to-day,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  he  had  lost  all  faith  in 
God " 

"  Because  he  was  leaving  me?  "  queried  Jacynth,  with  de- 
mure simplicity — "  Poor  Bob !  He  said  last  night  he  should 
meet  me  in  Heaven, — but  I  told  him  no,  I  was  not  going 
that  way." 

"  Jacynth !  "  Everton's  accents  were  sharp  and  stern — 
"  I  cannot  permit  you  to  talk  to  me  like  this.  You  are  a 
mere  girl — a  headstrong,  foolish  girl — and  you  should  know 
that  your  words  are  wicked  and  unworthy  of  you  as  a. 


104  HOLY     ORDERS 

Christian.  I  thought  you  were  going  to  try  and  please 
me " 

He  broke  off,  vexed  to  see  sudden  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  can't  please  you,  Mr.  Everton," — she  said,  slowly — 
"  It's  not  in  me  to  do  it,  and  I'm  not  going  to  try.  I  shall 
never  be  good — goodness  bores  me.  I  can  only  be  myself. 
See !  "  and  with  an  unconsciously  effective  gesture  she  swept 
one  hand  round,  expressively  indicating  all  the  landscape — 
"  Here  are  trees  and  grass  and  flowers,  and  birds — I  love 
them  all!  None  of  them  have  any  churches  or  clergymen 
to  teach  them, — and  yet  they  all  make  their  own  happiness 
their  own  way.  They  all  die, — of  course  everything  dies, 
— but  not  till  they've  most  of  them  had  a  good  time.  I 
want  my  good  time,  and  I  don't  care  how  I  get  it.  I  like 
to  be  admired — I  like  every  man  who  sees  me  to  want  me 
more  than  anything  else  on  earth — for  the  moment! — it  is 
never  more  than  for  the  moment,  you  know!" — and  she 
shot  a  glance  up  at  him  from  the  shadow  of  her  curling 
lashes.  "  But — it's  always  a  grand  moment !  I  kept  away 
from  Bob  Hadley,  because  he  was  ill,  and  I  thought  I  did 
him  harm — but  when  you  said :  '  Go  and  see  him  ' — I  went 
— though  I  knew  it  would  be  the  death  of  him.  Put  your- 
self in  his  place,  Mr.  Everton! — suppose  that  you  loved  a 
woman  more  than  God,  and  that  death  was  taking  you  away 
from  her  altogether, — would  you  not  curse  and  swear  just 
as  Bob  did?" 

Completely  taken  aback  by  the  confident  effrontery  of  her 
speech  and  manner,  he  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  grave, 
reproachful  amazement.  She  met  his  look  with  a  smile  of 
perfect  sweetness — but  he  set  his  lips  hard  and  faced  her 
resolutely,  as  though  she  were  a  fair  fiend  sent  to  tempt  his 
soul. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Jacynth," — he  said  coldly — 
"  You  talk  in  a  way  you  should  not — and  I  think  you  know 
it.  I  cannot  for  a  moment  imagine  myself  or  any  man 
loving  a  woman  more  than  God." 

She  opened  her  dark  eyes,  showing  him  a  luminous  world 
of  wonder  in  their  depths. 

"  You  cannot  ?  Oh ! — but — of  course  you  cannot — 
you're  a  clergyman.  I  forgot !  I  thought " 


HOLY     ORDERS  105 

She  drooped  her  head,  and  it  seemed  to  Everton  that  her 
bosom  trembled  with  suppressed  laughter. 

A  sense  of  anger  burned  within  him ; — was  he, — the  Vicar 
of  the  parish, — so  powerless,  so  wavering  and  indulgent  and 
weak,  that  he  could  do  nothing  to  convince  this  girl  of  her 
vanity  and  folly,  and  lead  her  out  of  the  error  of  her 
ways  ? 

"  You  thought  what  ?  "  he  asked,  sternly. 

She  glanced  at  him  demurely. 

"  Only — that  you  were  perhaps  like  other  men," — she 
said. 

At  this  he  smiled — and  there  was  a  touch  of  scorn  in  the 
smile. 

"  I  hope  and  think  I  am  like  other  men," — he  said  quietly 
— "Other  men  who  know  that  the  greatest  happiness  on 
earth  is  to  serve  God  faithfully,  and  for  His  sake  to  fight 
against  all  evil  things  that  strive  to  separate  our  souls  from 
Him " 

"  Am  I  an  evil  thing?  "  she  interrupted  him,  suddenly. 

"  Pray  God  you  are  not !  "  he  said,  simply. 

She  was  silent.  Two  bright  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks 
and  dropped  among  the  flowers  at  her  breast.  He  was 
touched,  despite  himself.  It  was  well-nigh  impossible  not 
to  feel  a  certain  compassion  for  this  wayward  beautiful  crea- 
ture, fatherless  and  motherless  as  she  was,  and  left  to  the 
casual  protection  of  an  aged  relative  who  only  sought  to 
make  use  of  her  as  a  '  handy '  girl  to  fetch  and  carry, — 
and  he  began  to  think  again,  as  he  had  often  thought  lately, 
whether  he  could  not  find  a  means  of  placing  her  in  some 
establishment  where  she  could  be  trained  to  suitable  em- 
ployment that  should  occupy  her  mind  as  well  as  procure 
her  a  means  of  livelihood. 

"  If  she  were  not  so  lovely," — he  mused — "  it  would  be 
easy." 

That  was  just  the  difficulty — '  if  she  were  not  so  lovely/ 
And  he  caught  himself  studying  every  line  of  the  '  diffi- 
culty,'— the  hair,  the  eyes,  the  figure,  the  exquisite  rose- 
leaf  skin — and  then,  as  his  mind  dwelt  persistently  on  these 
varying  charms,  he  pulled  himself  together,  and  decided 
that  it  was  not  a  man's  business  to  manage  the  girl  at  all. 


io6  HOLY     ORDERS 

His  wife, — Azalea  must  be  called  upon  to  take  her  in  hand, 
— and  yet,  as  this  idea  crossed  his  mind  he  knew  how  absurd 
it  was  for  him  to  entertain  it  for  a  moment.  Azalea  and 
Jacynth!  As  well  seek  to  bring  the  opposite  poles  together, 
or  ask  fire  and  water  to  mingle  in  unison! 

"  Jacynth," — he  said,  at  last — "  I  should  like  to  have  a 
quiet  talk  with  you " 

She  looked  up  quickly. 

"Now?"  she  asked. 

"  No — not  now, — in  two  or  three  days  time — after  poor 
Bob  Hadley  is  buried.  Come  to  the  Vicarage " 

"What  will  Mrs.  Everton  say?" — and  she  smiled  the 
question,  rather  than  spoke  it.  Something  in  her  tone  an- 
noyed him.  He  drew  himself  up  a  trifle  stiffly. 

"  Mrs.  Everton  will  say  as  she  has  always  said  " — he 
replied,  "  that  she  hopes  I  may  persuade  you  to  be  reason- 
able and  gentle — to  be  more  careful  of  your  conduct " 

Jacynth  laughed  lightly. 

"  I  don't  think  she  hopes  anything  of  the  kind,"  she  said 
— "  She  knows  I'm  past  all  that.  I  can't  be  reasonable — 
not  in  the  way  you  mean, — reasonable  people  are  always 
so  dull.  I  hate  being  dull!  But  I  won't  be  a  trouble  to 
you,  Mr.  Everton — I  promise  that!  I'll  make  a  change! 
See  here,"  and  with  an  impetuous  movement  she  laid  one 
hand  confidently  on  his  arm — "  You're  a  good  man,  I'm 
sure, — at  least  I  know  you're  trying  to  be  good!  You're 
trying  to  be  better  and  wiser  than  the  birds  and  the  ani- 
mals— I'm  not.  The  Testament  tells  us  that  God  cares 
for  the  sparrows  and  the  lilies  of  the  field — I  don't  presume 
to  be  more  valuable  than  a  sparrow,  and  I'm  certainly  not 
half  so  nice  as  a  lily  of  the  field.  If  God  looks  after  me  as 
much  as  He  does  after  those  two  things,  I'm  all  right.  I 
don't  mind  the  rest.  But  I  swear  to  you  " — here  she  spoke 
with  extraordinary  vehemence,  and  her  great  eyes  glittered 
like  stars  on  a  wintry  night — "  that  next  time  you  see  me 
I'll  be  different.  I  will!" 

Her  manner  startled  him  a  little.  She  looked  at  him  so 
straightly,  and  withal  so  defiantly  that  he  was  at  loss  what 
to  reply.  After  a  pause,  he  said  gently — 

"  Is  that  a  promise,  Jacynth  ?  " 

"  That's  a  promise !  "  and  with  a  sudden  desperate  ges- 


HOLY     ORDERS  107 

ture  she  flung  up  her  arms  to  heaven — "  Do  you  hear  it, 
Almighty  God?  It's  a  promise!" 

He  recoiled  from  her  with  a  kind  of  nervous  dread  upon 
him.  There  was  something  so  wild  and  reckless  about  her 
that  he  wondered — with  the  usual  despairing  sensation  that 
always  affected  him  when  he  thought  of  the  one  great 
curse  of  his  parish  which  he  was  powerless  to  remove — 
whether  she  had  been  drinking?  She  caught  his  look, — 
and,  understanding  it,  laughed  aloud. 

"I  know  what  you  think!"  she  said — "If  one  of  the 
prophets  who  raved  about  God  in  the  Bible  were  to  stand 
here  now  and  begin  to  rant  and  scream,  you'd  say  he  was 
drunk !  Isaiah  wouldn't  get  a  hearing  at  any  price !  " 

"  Jacynth !  "  And  his  utterance  of  her  name  was  like  a 
sharp  exclamation  of  pain. 

"  Jacynth !  "  she  echoed,  half  sadly,  half  mockingly — 
"  Poor  Jacynth !  A  girl  with  only  a  face  for  a  fortune ! 
That's  the  trouble!  Well,  good-by,  Mr.  Everton!  I've 
made  you  a  promise — and  you'll  see  I'll  keep  it!  Good- 
by!" 

Before  he  could  utter  a  word  in  answer  she  had  gone, 
running  past  him  over  the  old  stone  bridge  into  the  village 
with  the  flying  fleetness  of  a  bird.  He  turned  to  look  at 
her  as  she  fled,  and  all  at  once,  as  though  a  chord  had  been 
struck  in  his  brain,  he  heard  the  frantic  cry  of  the  dead  man 
who  had  loved  her — "  Jacynth !  Jacynth !  See  where  she 
goes!  Will  no  one  stop  her?  Running,  running,  running 
— look — look ! — running  straight  into  Hell !  " 

Everton  shuddered  as  with  an  inward  cold. 

"  Something  must  be  done  for  that  girl," — he  said — 
"  Something  must  be  done  before  it  is  too  late ! " 


CHAPTER   VII 

or  three  days  passed,  and  during  this  interval 
1  Shadbrook  took  upon  itself  a  curious  aspect  of  bland 
and  decent  dejection, — an  aspect  it  always  assumed  whenever 
there  was  a  death  in  the  village.  Everybody  had  known  for 
a  long  time  that  young  Hadley's  illness  could  only  have  one 
possible  termination, — and  when  that  fatal  end  arrived  no 
one  was  really  surprised  or  very  sorry,  yet  all  thought  it 
the  '  proper  '  thing  to  affect  an  air  of  gentle  resignation,  as  of 
persons  who  were  unjustly  maltreated  by  a  cruel  and  un- 
toward destiny.  Blinds  were  drawn  in  the  cottage  windows 
of  both  '  old  '  and  '  new  '  Shadbrook — and  even  the  vener- 
able '  Mortar '  Pike  sat  obstinately  in  his  chimney-corner, 
refusing  to  move,  and  apparently  considering  himself  a  more 
or  less  injured  party  because  he  was  not  yet  '  laid  out '  as  a 
corpse. 

"  For,"  said  he,  "  that  there  Bob  Hadley  worn't  three-and- 
twenty,  an'  look  at  me,  goin'  on  for  ninety-three  this  August ! 
Seems  to  me  the  Lord  don't  want  me  nohow.  I'm  sort  o' 
left  stickin'  in  the  furrow  while  the  plow  goes  on." 

As  long  as  this  state  of  things  lasted,  Everton  rather 
avoided  the  village,  for  experience  had  taught  him  that  the 
rustic  mind  revels  in  the  affairs  of  death,  and  that  when 
country  folk  are  preparing  for  a  funeral,  it  is  a  kind  of 
personal  festivity  for  them  in  which  they  resent  all  interfer- 
ence. He  knew,  or  rather  he  imagined,  that  if  he  were 
wanted,  he  would  be  sent  for.  He  had  yet  to  learn  that 
under  certain  circumstances  of  difficulty  occurring  to  what 
are  called  the  '  common  '  people,  the  very  last  person  they 
think  of  consulting,  is  the  Vicar  of  the  parish.  It  ought 
not  to  be  so,  but  so  it  is.  And  the  cause  is  not  far  to  seek, 
for  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  the  Vicar  of  the  parish  is  so 
centered  in  himself  and  his  own  concerns  that  he  has  no 
sympathy  to  spare  for  any  wandering  or  wounded  member 
of  his  flock.  "  I  do  not  wander," — he  says, — "  Why  should 

108 


HOLY     ORDERS  .  109 

you  pursue  so  undesirable  a  course?    /  am  not  wounded — 
why  do  you  bleed  ?  " 

Everton,  however,  was  not  one  of  the  priestly  egoists  of 
whom  there  are  so  many  abusing  the  world  nowadays  in  the 
name  of  Christ, — and  had  the  poorest  or  most  erring  of  his 
parishioners  sought  his  aid  in  trouble,  he  would  have  given  it 
with  all  his  heart  and  power,  no  matter  at  what  cost  or  pain 
to  himself.  Unfortunately,  his  flock  did  not  entirely  grasp 
this  fact.  He  had  only  been  with  them  a  little  over  three 
years, — and  though  they  were  all  decidedly  impressed  in  his 
favor,  yet  the  memory  of  at  least  two  past  vicars  had  made 
it  difficult  for  them  to  understand  that  a  man  may  be  a  parson 
and  honest  at  one  and  the  same  time.  So  they  were  cautious 
— not  to  say  secretive — in  their  dealings  with  him,— or  per- 
haps it  would  be  better  to  describe  their  general  attitude 
towards  him  as  one  of  reticence  mingled  with  respect.  He 
himself  was  sorrowfully  conscious  that  there  was  an  invisible 
wall  between  his  personality  and  their  humble  lives, — a  wall 
which  he  had  now  and  then  looked  over  by  chance,  but 
which  he  had  never  been  able  to  scale.  Nevertheless,  he 
bore  his  isolation  very  peaceably, — he  was  patient-minded, 
and  hoped  almost  against  hope  that  some  day — a  day  no 
matter  how  distant,  provided  it  should  come  at  last, — some 
day  they  would  realize  that  he  was  truly  their  friend,  faith- 
ful in  purpose,  and  loving  in  intention,  seeking  to  live  the 
Christ-life  to  the  best  of  his  human  ability, — a  life  easy  to 
preach  of,  but  more  difficult  to  practice  than  any  ethical 
theory  ever  propounded  to  the  world  by  teachers  un-Divine. 
And  in  his  instinctive  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  when  one 
of  their  little  community  was  '  taken  '  as  they  put  it,  they 
preferred  to  be  left  alone  to  manage  their  own  peculiar  cere- 
monies of  '  laying  out '  and  '  watching '  the  dead  without 
the  intrusion  of  one  who,  though  the  head  of  the  parish,  was 
more  or  less  a  stranger  to  their  habits  and  customs,  he  kept 
away  from  them  during  the  time  that  he  knew  they  were  all, 
like  children  at  a  fair,  enjoying  the  lugubrious  preparations 
for  the  funeral  of  Bob  Hadley.  The  Kiernans  made  no 
sign, — and  on  the  strength  of  the  idea  that  no  news  was 
good  news,  he  supposed  all  was  well.  Once  or  twice  he 
felt  strongly  inclined  to  call  at  Dan  Kiernan's  cottage  and 
make  inquiries  as  to  the  condition  of  that  redoubtable 


no  HOLY     ORDERS 

drunkard's  ill-used  but  uncomplaining  wife, — but  remem- 
bering Dan's  fierce  anger  at  his  "  busy-bodyin'  " — decided 
to  leave  matters  as  they  were  for  the  present.  Once  he  asked 
Azalea  if  she  had  heard  anything  about  Mrs.  Kiernan,  and 
that  charming  little  lady  had  given  her  shoulders  a  most 
expressive  shrug  as  she  replied — 

"  No — not  a  word !  You  know,  Dick,  they  don't  want 
us— especially  when  we  notice  their  domestic  quarrels !  They 
quite  hate  us,  then! — they  really  do!  And  perhaps,  after 
all,  they  are  right.  If  /  quarreled  with  you,  or  you  quar- 
reled with  me,  I  shouldn't  like  anybody  to  come  and  ask  me 
about  it ! — I  really  shouldn't — not  even  a  Bishop !  " 

He  laughed  at  the  open  roundness  of  her  child-like  blue 
eyes. 

"  My  dear,  I  only  wanted  to  know  if  the  poor  wretched 
woman  had  recovered," — he  said,  lightly — "  Dan  Kiernan 
had  undoubtedly  hurt  her  very  much " 

"  Oh,  but  she  liked  it!  "  declared  Azalea — "  She  wouldn't 
hear  a  word  against  him!  And,  Dick,  you  ought  to  remem- 
ber that  if  women  like  to  be  knocked  down  by  their  hus- 
bands, you  really  cant  prevent  it!  If  Mrs.  Kiernan  were 
any  worse,  the  doctor  would  have  sent  us  word, — I'm  sure 
you  needn't  be  at  all  anxious  on  that  score!  Nobody  in 
the  village  is  bothering  about  her  at  all, — they're  all  quite 
taken  up  with  that  poor  dead  man, — and  they  won't  think 
of  anything  else  till  he's  buried.  Dear  me !  "  and  she  heaved 
a  little  sigh — "  I  do  wish  it  didn't  remind  me  so  of  wasps!  " 

"  Wasps!  "  he  exclaimed — "  Azalea,  what  do  you  mean!  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  it  sounds  dreadful  and  irreverent  and  all 
that!  "  she  said,  with  a  dimpling  smile — "  but  I  really  can't 
help  it,  Dick!  Haven't  you  ever  seen  a  wasp's  funeral?  / 
have!  I  saw  one  not  long  ago  in  the  garden.  The  dead 
wasp  was  on  the  lawn, — and  there  came  a  whole  lot  of  other 
wasps  buzzing  round  it  and  making  the  most  awful  fuss — > 
and  the  crowd  got  thicker  and  thicker,  and  each  wasp  seemed 
to  have  something  to  say  about  the  body — and  then  they 
settled  in  a  mass  upon  it, — and  I  watched  the  whole  business, 
till  suddenly  they  all  flew  away — and — there  was  not  a 
vestige  of  the  wasp  corpse  left !  It  was  gone !  "  Here  she 
put  on  a  face  of  the  greatest  seriousness.  "  What  do  you 
suppose  became  of  it  ?  " 


HOLY     ORDERS  in 

"Can't  imagine!"  and  Everton  laughed  again — "Have 
you  any  idea?" 

She  raised  herself  on  tiptoe,  and  with  a  coaxing  touch 
pretended  to  arrange  his  tie  more  becomingly. 

"  Yes,  I  have — but  I  don't  like  to  say  it,"  she  answered — 
"  I  think  it  was  eaten  up !  I  do !  I  believe  that's  the  way 
wasps  get  rid  of  their  defunct  friends  and  relatives!  Of 
course  I'm  wrong, — and  some  dreadful  spectacled  old  ento- 
mologist would  tell  me  I'm  a  perfect  fool.  But  that's  how 
the  thing  appeared  to  me.  And  when  I  see  all  the  villagers 
of  Shadbrook  swarming  round  Mrs.  Hadley's  cottage  and 
wanting  '  to  look  at  the  corpse ' — that's  what  they  say,  you 
know ! — it  makes  me  feel  wasps  all  over !  " 

Everton  struggled  with  his  feelings; — he  tried  to  check 
his  mirth  and  to  look  serious,  but  it  was  no  use.  Azalea 
was  perfectly  incorrigible.  To  her  there  was  nothing  of 
grave  import  in  life  or  death, — persons  and  events  presented 
themselves  to  her  in  a  manner  which  to  him  was  incompre- 
hensible and  yet  comical, — he  could  hardly  reproach  her,  and 
yet  he  knew  well  enough  that  the  way  in  which  she  viewed 
the  sorrows  of  others,  proved  her  to  be  lacking  in  that  deli- 
cate sympathy  which  poets  in  olden  time  used  gallantly  to 
maintain  was  the  best  charm  of  a  perfect  woman.  She  had 
indeed  a  faculty  resembling  that  of  the  halfpenny  modern 
press,  which  chiefly  rejoices  in  its  ability  to  make  a  jest 
of  everything,  even  of  the  honor  and  renown  of  the  country 
on  whose  too  easy  tolerance  it  battens.  There  is  a  strong 
taint  of  the  monkey  in  all  semi-educated  men  and  women — 
a  tendency  to  grin  and  chatter  and  throw  nutshells  at  the 
sun.  The  mongrel  man,  who  is  a  cross  between  an  ape  and 
a  savage,  cannot  be  expected  to  appreciate  the  highest  and 
purest  things  of  life, — and  it  is  just  because  the  mongrel 
breeds  are  gaining  undue  ascendency  in  human  affairs  that 
poetry  has  been  killed  outright  and  all  the  sister  arts  are 
slowly  dying.  Too  many  mongrels  are  in  control  of  our 
press,  our  finance  and  our  government, — and  it  is  possible  we 
may  have  to  wait  a  couple  of  centuries  yet,  before  with  fire 
and  sword  we  cleanse  our  Augean  stables  and  recover  the 
true  types  of  noble  Manhood  and  Womanhood  for  the  grace 
and  the  glory  of  England.  Meanwhile  it  is  the  fashion  to 
'  sneer  down  '  warmth  of  heart  and  sentiment, — and  Azalea, 


112  HOLY     ORDERS 

though  she  had  a  certain  amount  of  tenderness  and  feeling 
in  her  dainty  composition,  was  so  far  from  wishing  to  give 
way  to  such  '  weakness '  that  she  preferred  to  laugh  at  a 
serious  subject  rather  than  take  time  to  consider  it.  Her 
husband  looking  at  her  now,  as  in  all  her  pink  and  white 
prettiness  she  smiled  up  into  his  face,  realized  in  a  flash  of 
comprehension  how  utterly  futile  it  would  be  to  talk  to  her 
about  the  spiritual  and  moral  needs  of  Jacynth  Miller.  For 
a  moment  he  had  thought  that  perhaps  he  could  persuade 
her  to  have  the  girl  at  the  Vicarage  for  a  day  or  two  so  that 
she  might  talk  to  her  and  reason  with  her  '  like  a  sister,' — 
so  he  had  said  to  himself  in  the  simple,  foolish  way  of  a 
perfectly  guileless  man  who  is  generally  hopelessly  ignorant 
of  the  complex  nature  of  a  woman.  But  somehow  after  her 
story  of  the  wasp's  funeral,  he  felt  that  he  could  not  speak  to 
her  at  all  on  the  topic  which  just  now  was  uppermost  in  his 
mind.  If  the  loneliness  and  sorrow  of  a  broken-hearted 
widow  deprived  of  her  only  son,  could  not  move  her  to 
any  sense  of  real  compassion,  then  the  uncertain  prospect  of 
a  girl's  life — especially  when  that  girl  was  as  beautiful  as 
Jacynth — would  scarcely  appeal  to  her  interest.  Teased  by 
his  own  thoughts,  he  gave  a  slight  sigh.  His  wife  put  her 
fair  arms  caressingly  about  him. 

"  You're  vexed,  I'm  sure!  " — she  murmured — "  You  don't 
like  my  '  wasp '  way  of  looking  at  funerals !  I  know  it's 
quite  wicked  of  me,  but " 

He  interrupted  her  with  a  kiss. 

"  You  have  a  merry  heart,  little  one," — he  said,  tenderly 
— "  And  may  you  always  keep  it !  For  myself  I'm  afraid 
I  feel  the  griefs  of  others  rather  keenly — and  I  can't  forget 
poor  Hadley's  tortured  eyes,  or  his  mother's  despair " 

"I  knew  it  would  be  disagreeable!" — and  drawing  her- 
self away  from  him  she  gave  a  tiny  shake  of  her  skirts  ex- 
pressive of  defiance — "  And  you  didn't  do  him  any  good  by 
going  and  praying  at  his  bedside — I'm  sure  you  didn't!  " 

He  was  silent. 

"  Sometimes,"  she  went  on — "  dying  people  get  worse 
directly  they  see  the  clergyman.  /  should,  I'm  sure!  Though, 
of  course,  it  will  be  all  right  when  /  die,  because  you're 
my  husband,  and  there  you  are,  all  ready " 

With  a  sudden  passionate  exclamation  he  caught  her  in 
his  arms. 


HOLY     ORDERS  113 

"Azalea,  my  darling,  don't  talk  like  that!  You  die! 
You/  Oh  my  love,  my  wife!  Don't  you  know  I  couldn't 
live  without  you !  Do  you  think  I  could  pray  by  your  death- 
bed?" 

She  clung  to  him,  trembling  a  little. 

"Couldn't  you?"  she  whispered— "  Why  not?" 

His  hands  closed  jealously  over  her  little  golden-curled 
head,  and  he  pressed  her  almost  roughly  to  his  heart. 

"  Don't  ask  me!"  he  whispered  back — "  It's  too  hard  a 
question !  " 

A  silence  followed — a  silence  in  which  love,  and  love  only, 
held  them  both  in  thrall.  Everton  almost  heard  the  strong 
pulsation  of  the  warm  life-blood  in  his  veins, — while  at  the 
same  time  his  spiritual  inward  self  shuddered  as  it  were,  on 
the  brink  of  an  abyss  of  eternal  cold.  Azalea's  query  had 
for  the  moment  startled  him  with  a  kind  of  terror.  For — 
if  he  could  not  pray  by  the  deathbed  of  one  whom  he  himself 
loved,  where  was  his  professed  faith  in  the  great  Creed  of 
Christ  with  which  he  sought  to  console  others?  He  dared 
not  pursue  the  thought.  The  exquisite  undefmable  emotion 
he  felt  in  the  mere  act  of  holding  his  wife  in  his  close  embrace 
was  but  a  part  of  his  ordinary  earthly  experience  and  exist- 
ence— a  bodily  ecstasy  with  which  this  world  alone  was  con- 
nected, and  which  certainly  was  not  promised  in  the  world 
to  come.  For  there,  according  to  Scripture,  both  marrying 
and  giving  in  marriage  are  at  an  end,  and  redeemed  souls 
are  *  as  the  angels  of  God  in  Heaven.'  Whether  those 
angels,  as  in  the  poem  of  '  Annabel  Lee,'  covet  the  love  of 
human  beings  on  earth,  is  a  fantastic  point  only  fit  to 
be  argued  by  dreamers  and  romanticists — but  so  far  as  Rich- 
ard Everton  was  concerned,  he  would  not  at  that  moment 
have  exchanged  the  delight  of  his  own  personal  passion  for 
all  the  glory  of  an  impersonal  paradise.  Of  course  the  ardent 
glow  of  feeling  was  brief, — it  always  is.  No  human  being 
can  stand  too  long  upon  the  topmost  peak  of  joy.  It  is  al- 
ways necessary  to  come  down, — sometimes  to  fall  off  precipi- 
tately,— but  Azalea  managed  to  make  a  more  graceful 
descent  by  slipping  gently  out  of  her  husband's  arms  and 
shaking  her  pretty  head  at  him  as  though  he  were  a  naughty 
boy. 

"  We've  been  quite  sentimental !  "  she  said — "  And — oh, 
Dick! — how  you've  rumpled  my  hair!  " 


ili4  HOLY     ORDERS 

He  smiled,  and  going  to  his  desk  began  to  turn  over 
papers  mechanically.  His  nerves  were  quivering  like  harp- 
strings  swept  by  a  storm, — and  every  touch  upon  them  awoke 
a  tone  of  melody  or  discord.  In  days  to  come  he  was  destined 
to  remember  those  few  moments  fraught  with  meaning, 
when  the  overwhelming  knowledge  of  his  own  weakness  as 
a  minister  of  Christ,  had  borne  down  his  imagined  spiritual 
force  with  a  sudden  chill  blow, — when  he  had  realized  that 
the  dying  Hadley's  words  might  yet  challenge  him  from  the 
grave  as  to  the  use  of  prayer, — and  when  for  the  first  time 
he  had  felt  like  '  a  reed  shaken  in  the  wind '  by  the  mere 
dread  thought  of  being  called  upon  to  pray  for  his  own 
wife's  departing  soul.  A  witty  French  philosopher  assures 
us  that  there  is  nothing  which  we  can  bear  with  greater 
equanimity  than  the  misfortunes  of  others, — and  no  one  is 
more  frequently  called  upon  to  display  this  heroic  form  of 
endurance  than  a  clergyman.  Often  he  becomes  so  accus- 
tomed to  it  that  he  forgets  he  is  not  absolutely  safeguarded 
himself  from  affliction,  and  when  he  is  made  the  object  of  a 
*  visitation  '  in  the  way  of  suffering,  he  is  not  only  surprised 
but  frequently  offended.  He  considers  it  unjust  that  God, 
whom  he  serves  according  to  orthodox  Church  rule,  should 
retaliate  upon  him  with  any  rods  in  pickle.  Yet  such  rods 
are  often  laid  sharply  across  his  back,  and  if  science  be  cor- 
rect in  the  assertion  that  nothing  is  without  a  cause  for  being, 
then  we  must  presume  he  has  deserved  the  castigation,  even 
though  his  faults  be  not  publicly  apparent.  And  so  truly 
did  Everton  grasp  the  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  that 
in  a  kind  of  semi-conscious  way,  he  mentally  sought  to  punish 
himself  for  enjoying  too  much  happiness. 

"  I  am  really  one  of  the  most  fortunate  men  in  the  world," 
— he  argued — •"  God  has  showered  benefits  upon  me, — and 
yet  how  many  times  a  day  lately  have  I  not  grumbled  at  the 
limitations  of  my  life  at  Shadbrook !  I  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  my  discontent.  I  am  not  half  grateful  enough  for  all  the 
blessings  I  have, — for  my  wife  and  child — for  my  house 
and  all  its  comforts — for  the  peace  and  health  of  a  country 
life, — for  the  chances  of  helping  and  comforting  my  pa- 
rishioners,— why,  there  are  a  thousand  things  which  should 
move  me  to  hourly  thanksgiving!  And  yet  I  am  often  churl- 
ish and  dissatisfied.  I  have  even  imagined  that  I  deserve  a 


HOLY     ORDERS  115 

wider  sphere  of  intellectual  effort  than  my  present  charge, — 
what  insufferable  conceit  on  my  part !  Evidently  I  must  take 
myself  strongly  in  hand.  I  need  to  learn  the  lesson  of  grat- 
itude— the  one  least  known  by  all  the  world  of  men !  " 

And  even  as  he  thought,  so  he  acted,  and  set  about  all  his 
duties  with  a  patiently  renewed  and  earnestly  reconsidered 
zeal.  When  the  day  came  for  Hadley's  funeral,  he  per- 
formed that  last  sad  religious  rite  with  a  gentle  tenderness 
and  compassion  for  the  deeply  distressed  mother  of  the  dead 
lad  that  did  not  fail  to  impress  all  those  of  his  parishioners 
who  were  present  with  a  sense  of  something  like  surprise  that 
a  parson  should  deem  it  worth  his  while  to  be  so  brotherly 
and  kind  to  the  merely  '  common '  folk.  There  were,  how- 
ever, very  few  that  followed  the  corpse  to  the  grave, — and 
those  few  were,  or  appeared  to  be,  more  uneasy  than  grieved. 
Everton,  always  keenly  sensitive  to  impressions,  caught  one 
or  two  of  their  shifty  glances  at  him,  and  wondered  what 
they  had  in  their  minds.  When  all  was  over,  and  the  poor 
weeping  Mrs.  Hadley  had  thrown  a  small  bunch  of  white 
narcissi  upon  the  coffin  that  held  everything  that  was  mortal 
of  the  son  she  had  brought  into  the  world  for  no  better  end 
than  this, — he  waited  a  few  moments  in  the  churchyard, 
while  the  small  group  of  mourners  slowly  dispersed;  and  an 
uncomfortable  feeling  came  over  him  that  there  was  some- 
thing wrong,  but  what  it  was  he  could  not  determine.  He 
watched  the  sexton  casting  spadefuls  of  rich  brown  earth 
into  the  open  grave,  and  presently  spoke  to  him,  though  he 
knew  there  was  nothing  in  the  way  of  information  to  be 
got  out  of  a  man  who  had  won  for  himself  the  nickname  of 
'  Silent  Stowey '  on  account  of  his  extreme  taciturnity. 

"  Poor  Hadley  seems  to  have  had  very  few  friends," — he 
said. 

Jacob  Stowey,  verger,  sexton,  bell-ringer  and  general  use- 
ful man  about  the  church,  looked  up  for  a  second,  then  down 
again,  and  went  on  with  his  '  shoveling  in.' 

"  All  the  village  knew  him,  and  knew  how  long  and 
patiently  he  had  suffered," — continued  Everton — "  I  should 
have  thought «" 

"  That  all  the  village  'ud  be  'ere!  " — interrupted  Stowey — 
"  But  it  ain't." 

He  moistened  his  hands  and  worked  with  fresh  energy. 


n6  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  The  people  seemed  so  sorry  about  it,  and  so  sympa- 
thetic," here  Everton,  despite  himself,  thought  of  Azalea's 
description  of  the  '  wasp's  funeral ' — "  They  must  be  able 
to  forget  very  quickly,  or  some  other  event  must  have  hap- 
pened of  greater  interest " 

Stowey  turned  his  head  and  weather-beaten  visage  slowly 
round,  and  surveyed  the  Vicar  with  a  pair  of  very  vague, 
filmy  gray  eyes. 

"  Mebbe  that's  it,"— he  said—"  Mebbe." 

He  threw  more  spadefuls  of  earth  over  Hadley's  now 
invisible  coffin.  Everton  hesitated  another  moment,  stand- 
ing by  the  grave  like  an  almost  supernatural  figure,  with  the 
wind  blowing  his  surplice  about  him  in  snow-white  folds,  as 
of  the  mantle  of  a  saint  or  a  martyr. 

"  But  there's  nothing," — he  began  tentatively. 

"  Nawt's  told  me,  an'  I  knows  nawt," — said  Stowey — 
"  I  bells  an'  I  buries — but  I  doan't  clapperwag.  Clapper- 
waggin's  for  maids  an'  fools,  an'  I  hain't  naither." 

He  continued  his  work,  and  Everton,  feeling  it  would  be 
useless  to  ask  him  any  more  questions,  presently  bade  him  a 
cheery  good-day  and  left  him. 

All  the  rest  of  that  afternoon  he  happened  to  be  particu- 
larly busy ;  there  was  a  great  deal  of  correspondence  to  clear 
and  accounts  to  make  up,  so  that  he  did  not  go  out,  but 
remained  for  the  most  part  of  the  time  in  his  study.  Not  a 
single  caller  came  near  the  Vicarage,  and  the  hours  lagged 
slowly  and  somewhat  heavily  away.  With  the  fall  of  even- 
ing he  put  by  his  books  and  papers  as  usual,  and  gave  himself 
over  to  the  quiet  joys  of  domesticity,  which  for  him  were 
very  few  and  simple.  Chief  among  them  was  the  privilege 
of  seeing  his  small  son  '  tubbed  '  and  put  to  bed — a  function 
in  which  Master  Laurence  displayed  himself  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage, kicking  out  his  well-knit  little  limbs  in  every  direc- 
tion and  positively  reveling  in  every  splash  of  the  sponge  in 
the  water.  No  angel  ever  smiled  more  divinely  than  he 
did,  when,  nude  as  a  cupid  and  only  lacking  wings,  he  sat 
on  his  nurse's  knee  waiting  for  his  clean  night-gown  to  be 
put  on, — he  was  all  radiant  with  comfort  and  good-nature, 
and  it  was  difficult  to  realize  that  such  a  beautiful,  inno- 
cent little  being  was  destined  to  become  that  too  often  sad 


HOLY     ORDERS  117 

and  weary  thing,  a  Man.  It  was  a  point  on  which  Everton 
often  dwelt  with  a  certain  wistful  and  tender  solicitude. 

"  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof!  "  he  mused — 
"  Only — the  crudest  part  of  it  all  is  that  the  evil  is  sure  to 
come!" 

That  night  he  sat  in  the  drawing-room  reading,  or  rather 
pretending  to  read,  while  his  wife  sang  to  him, — another  of 
his  purely  '  domestic '  pleasures.  Azalea  had  a  very  small 
voice, — there  was  not  a  thrill  of  emotion  in  it,  but  it  was 
pretty  and  bird-like,  and  sounded  particularly  sweet  in  a 
more  than  usually  senseless  song  about  "  Meet  me  in  de 
corn  when  de  wind  am  blowin'."  There  was  no  real  senti- 
ment in  the  thing,  but  somehow,  as  he  heard  the  clear,  light, 
child-like  soprano  warbling  the  '  coon  '  nonsense  which  passed 
for  a  love-ditty,  he  was  touched  to  a  feeling  of  something 
like  tears.  He  laid  the  open  book  he  held  gently  on  the  table, 
and  looked  lovingly  at  his  wife's  dainty  figure  seated  at  the 
piano.  The  lamplight  gleamed  on  the  gold  of  her  hair, 
twisted  in  its  many  shining  love-locks,  and  flashed  on  the 
white  roundness  of  her  arms. 

"  Dere's  a  breakin'  in  de  clouds  an'  de  stars  am  showin', 
Oh  meet  me  in  de  corn  when  he  wind  am  blowin' !  " 

she  sang  in  quaintly  tender  little  notes  of  level  tune — per- 
fectly monotonous  and  passionless,  yet  effective  in  their  way, 
and  sufficient  to  charm  any  man  who  was  not  too  captious  a 
critic.  A  knock  at  the  drawing-room  door  broke  the  spell — 
the  music  ceased,  and  a  maid-servant  entered. 

"  Dr.  Brand  would  like  to  see  you,  sir," — she  said. 

"  Dr.  Brand !  "  The  Vicar  echoed  the  name  in  some  sur- 
prise and  glanced  at  his  watch — "  Why  it's  nearly  ten 
o'clock." 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  he  said  it  was  urgent." 

"  Somebody  dying  again !  "  sighed  Azalea. 

Her  husband  made  no  answer  to  this,  but  quietly  left  the 
room.  Brand  was  awaiting  him  in  the  study. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  disturb  you  so  late  in  the  evening,  Mr. 
Everton,"  he  said — "  But  I  thought  I'd  better  come  and 
tell  you  myself.  Mrs.  Kiernan " 


u8  HOLY     ORDERS 

"Is  she  worse?" 

"  She's  dead." 

"  Dead !  "  Everton  stood  amazed.  There  was  a  shock 
in  the  brevity  of  the  announcement.  "  Dead !  Why  I 
thought  she  was  getting  well " 

"  So  she  was," — and  '  Dr.  Harry '  took  two  or  three 
turns  up  and  down  the  room  in  rather  a  perturbed  way — 
"  There  was  nothing  at  all  in  the  nature  of  her  physical 
injuries  that  should  have  killed  her.  It  was  worry — the 
woman  fretted  herself  to  death." 

"When  did  she  die?" 

"  Just  now, — half  an  hour  ago.  Mr.  Everton," — and 
the  doctor  spoke  with  sudden  and  emphatic  earnestness — 
"  We  mustn't  think  of  charging  Kiernan  with  having  caused 
the  death  of  his  wife.  One  would  be  strongly  inclined  to 
do  so, — but  knowing  all  the  facts " 

He  broke  off,  and  again  paced  up  and  down  restlessly. 

"  It's  a  wretched  business!  "  he  said,  irritably — "  I  wish 
to  God  you  had  known  the  whole  thing  from  the  beginning, 
— then  your  wife  would  not  have  been  mixed  up  in  it " 

"  My  wife !  "  The  Vicar's  voice  and  face  expressed  utter 
and  genuine  bewilderment — "  My  wife !  " 

"  Well,  it  was  your  wife  who  told  Mrs.  Kiernan  all  about 
Dan's  fooling  with  Jacynth  Miller,  and  of  course  it  got  on 
the  poor  creature's  mind — then,  when  Jacynth  went  away 
frcm  the  village  the  day  before  yesterday,  Dan  behaved  like 
a  madman  and  made  a  scene " 

"  Wait ! — wait  a  minute !  "  and  Everton  put  his  hand  to 
his  forehead  in  a  dazed  way — "  I  don't  understand  you. 
You  say  you  wish  I  had  known  from  the  beginning.  Known 
what?" 

Brand  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  hesitatingly. 

"  It's  not  a  pleasant  story,  Mr.  Everton," — he  said,  at 
last — "  and  I  wish  I  hadn't  to  tell  it.  The  villagers  have 
all  been  trying  to  hide  it  and  hush  it  up — honestly  I  believe, 
only  for  the  sake  of  the  poor  woman  that's  gone,  who  was  a 
decent,  hard-working  body.  But  here  it  is.  Dan  Kiernan 
has  been  Jacynth  Miller's  lover  for  the  past  six  months " 

"Jacynth  Miller!     Kiernan  her  lover!     Good  God!" 

And  Everton  stared  before  him  with  strained  unseeing 
eyes. 


HOLY     ORDERS  119 

"  Naturally  the  women  knew," — went  on  Brand — "  With 
all  her  cleverness  Jacynth  could  not  hide  her  guilt  from 
them, — and  Mrs.  Everton  was  aware  of  it, — but  I  dare 
say  she  did  not  quite  like  to  tell  you.  Anyhow,  after  Kier- 
nan's  drunken  attack  on  his  wife,  when  Mrs.  Everton  went 
to  visit  her,  she  found — so  I  heard  from  Mrs.  Adcott — 
that  Jacynth  had  been  up  all  night  with  Dan  in  the  kitchen 
next  to  the  room  where  Mrs.  Kiernan  lay  ill.  And  she 
was  so  horrified  and  indignant  that  she  told  the  truth  to 
Mrs.  Kiernan  then  and  there — which  /  think  was  an  un- 
fortunate move." 

Everton  had  been  listening  as  though  he  were  lost  in  a 
dream. 

"  And  then  ?  "  he  queried,  in  a  level  tone  of  voice — 
"What  happened?" 

"  Nothing — except  that  Mrs.  Adcott  begged  her  not  to 
mention  the  miserable  scandal  to  you,  till  Mrs.  Kiernan  got 
well — and  she  promised.  But  the  trouble  of  it  is,  Mrs. 
Kiernan  never  really  rallied  thoroughly — she  was  sometimes 
better  and  sometimes  worse — and  the  finish  of  it  all  came 
when  it  was  known  that  Jacynth  had  gone " 

"  Gone!  "  repeated  Everton — "  She  has  gone?  " 

"  Yes, — no  one  knows  where." 

There  was  a  brief  silence.     Then  the  Vicar  spoke. 

"  I  am  sorry," — he  said  gently, — "  very  sorry  I  did  not 
hear,  or  find  out  all  this  for  myself,  before.  I  should — I 
should  have  understood  better  how  to  act.  It  is  very  diffi- 
cult for  the  clergyman  of  a  parish  to  make  his  influence  felt, 
or  his  presence  useful,  if  he  is  purposely  kept  in  the  dark 
concerning  matters  which  ought,  rightly,  to  be  brought  to 
his  attention.  I  do  not  easily  suspect  evil  " — and  a  slight 
flush  warmed  the  pallor  of  his  face — "  and  it  may  be  that 
I, — I  myself,  am  possibly  to  blame  for  the  incident  of 
Jacynth  Miller's  staying  the  night  in  Kiernan's  cottage, 
while  his  wife  was  ill, — for  I  chanced  to  meet  her  in  the 
village  on  the  day  the  assault  took  place,  and  she  told  me 
she  could  and  would  keep  Dan  away  from  the  drink " 

"  Of  course  she  could  and  would !  "  interposed  Brand, 
grimly.  "  As  long  as  he  had  her,  he  wanted  no  other 


poison 


"  I  had  no  idea," — went  on  Everton,  rather  sadly — "  I 


120  HOLY     ORDERS 

could  not  have  possibly  imagined  or  thought  for  a  moment 
that  a  girl  like  Jacynth, — for,  with  all  her  recklessness  she 
seemed  to  me  to  have  some  refinement  about  her — would 
have  allowed  herself  to  be  compromised  by  such  a  man  as 
Kiernan •" 

"  There  are  certain  women  who  love  brutes," — said 
Brand — "  And  Kiernan  is  a  brute.  But  he  is  a  fine  brute, 
and  that's  all  that  Jacynth  Miller  cares  about.  She  has  no 
sentiment  of  any  kind.  I  dare  say  that  type  of  woman  is 
new  to  you, — but  it's  common  to  me.  Doctors  see  more 
than  clergymen.  And  as  for  'refinement ' — well ! — if 
Jacynth  has  any  of  that  about  her  it's  the  refinement  of  vice, 
which  is  particularly  odious.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  told 
you  what  was  going  on " 

"  I  wish  you  had,"  answered  Everton,  gravely. 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  meditatively. 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  it  would  have  helped  the  situation," 
he  said — "  And  it  isn't  my  business  to  report  the  moral 
backslidings  of  the  Shadbrook  people.  They're  no  better 
and  no  worse,  so  far  as  I  can  make  out,  than  other  folks 
in  lonely  country  villages,  and  from  a  perfectly  common- 
sense  and  matter-of-fact  point  of  view,  I  don't  believe  any 
very  great  harm  would  have  been  done,  if  Mrs.  Everton 
had  not,  most  unluckily,  spoken  to  Mrs.  Kiernan  of  her 
husband's  infatuation  for  the  Miller  girl.  Nobody  would 
have  said  anything — Jacynth  would  have  gone  away,  as  she 
has  gone  now — she  always  wanted  to  go  away,  and  it  was 
what  she  was  planning  and  intending  to  do — not  out  of  shame 
for  herself  or  sorrow — oh  no! — don't  think  that  at  all! — 
but  merely  because  she  was  tired  of  Dan  and  his  amorous 
jealousies,  and  thought  she  would  like  a  change.  Mrs.  Kier- 
nan would  have  recovered  I'm  sure, — and  Dan  might  have 
still  made  her  a  fairly  good  husband,  as  such  husbands  go. 
But  now  I  expect  there'll  be  mischief." 

"  Simply  because  my  wife  did  what  she  thought  was  her 
duty  to  do?"  queried  Everton,  with  coldly  sparkling  eyes. 

4  Dr.  Harry '  smiled  somewhat  sadly. 

"  Duty — or  what  we  sometimes  call  duty — is  not  always 
a  safe  guide," — he  said — "  We  sometimes — even  the  best  of 
us — mistake  it.  I'm  sure  that  Mrs.  Everton  meant  to  be 
kindness  itself  when  she  warned  Mrs.  Kiernan  of  what  was 


HOLY     ORDERS  121 

going  on, — but  it  would  have  been  better  to  have  left  the 
poor  creature  in  ignorance.  As  matters  stand — I'm 
afraid " 

He  broke  off,  and  walked  up  and  down  reflectively. 

"  You're  afraid — of  what  ?  "  demanded  Everton. 

Brand  stood  still  and   faced  him. 

"  Well,  I'm  afraid  things  may  be  made  unpleasant  for 
your  wife," — he  said — "  She's  not  a  fit  person  to  contend 
with  rustic  boors,  and  if  I  were  you  I  should  not  let  her  go 
alone  into  the  village  for  a  while.  She  might  get  in- 
sulted  " 

The  Vicar  looked,  as  he  felt,  completely  bewildered. 

"Insulted?"  he  echoed — "What  do  you  mean?" 

44  Simply  this.  Dan  Kiernan  is  a  brute,  as  you  know, 
and  in  his  brutish  fury,  which  is  more  for  the  loss  of 
Jacynth  Miller  than  anything  else,  he  swears  that  Mrs. 
Everton  has  killed  his  wife,  and  that  he'll  have  vengeance 
for  it." 

"  Killed  his  wife !  "  exclaimed  Everton,  aghast — "  What  I 
Azalea?  Azalea,  who  would  not  hurt  a  fly?  The  man 
must  be  mad !  " 

"  Probably  he  is," — answered  Brand — "  But  madmen  are 
dangerous.  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Everton,  Dan  is  an  ugly 
customer.  Leave  him  alone.  Don't  offer  him  any  con- 
dolence on  his  wife's  death — he  won't  understand  it.  If," 
— here  the  doctor  folded  his  arms  and  looked  Everton 
squarely  in  the  face — "  if  you  could  realize  the  condition  of 
a  tiger  deprived  of  its  mate  and  its  prey  together  at  one  and 
the  same  moment,  you  might  have  some  idea  of  Dan  Kier- 
nan's  present  humor.  He's  on  the  drink  too — and  there's 
no  one  to  keep  him  away  from  it.  If  you  decide  to  see  him 
yourself,  that  is,  of  course,  your  affair,  though  I  think  it 
will  be  most  unwise — but  for  Heaven's  sake  don't  let  your 
wife  go  anywhere  near  him !  " 

Everton's  eyes  expressed  a  great  wonder  and  sorrow. 

"My  wife!"  he  said,  pitifully — "Poor  little  woman! 
She  has  done  him  no  harm !  " 

"  He  thinks  she  has," — and  the  doctor  looked  away  for  a 
moment  from  the  clergyman's  pale,  puzzled  face, — "And 
thinking,  as  we  all  know,  is  more  than  half  believing.  He 
has  made  up  his  mind  that  if  she  had  not  told  his  wife 


122  HOLY     ORDERS 

about  Jacynth  and  himself,  nothing  would  have  happened. 
Mrs.  Kiernan  would  have  lived, — and  Jacynth  would  have 
stayed  on  in  the  village.  Of  course  it's  true  enough  that 
there's  often  an  extraordinary  lot  of  mischief  caused  by  talk, 
— no  end  of  trouble  might  be  avoided  by  keeping  a  still 
tongue  in  one's  head " 

"  Dr.  Brand,"  interposed  Everton,  with  gentle  dignity — 
"  I  am  quite  sure  my  wife  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of 
causing  any  mischief  or  distress  to  poor  Mrs.  Kiernan  or  to 
any  one.  I  don't  know  what  she  said, — she  has  not  told 
me  a  word  about  it — but  I  am  sure  she  meant  everything 
in  the  best  and  kindest  manner.  She  never  gave  me  the 
least  hint  of  what  you  tell  me  concerning  Kiernan  and 
Jacynth  Miller — and,  naturally,  I  myself  should  never  have 
suspected  it " 

He  paused,  moved  by  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling.  For 
one  fleeting  instant  Jacynth's  beautiful  face  and  brilliant 
eyes  flashed  before  him  like  a  picture  in  a  dream, — and  the 
thought  that  she — she  with  all  her  youth  and  winsome  love- 
liness should  have  consented  to  become  the  wanton  partner 
of  Dan  Kiernan's  vices,  revolted  his  every  sense  to  the  verge 
of  nausea.  He  steadied  his  nerves  by  an  effort. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  all  this  trouble," — he  went  on 
quietly,  "  Sorrier  than  I  can  express  in  words !  I  suppose 
I  am  very  dense, — but  I  have  always  believed  in  the  good- 
ness rather  than  the  badness  of  my  fellow-creatures, — and 
I  had  hoped  to  see  even  Dan  Kiernan  turn  out  a  nobler 
fellow  than  he  seemed.  As  for  Jacynth  Miller — I  knew 
she  was  vain  of  her  beauty,  and  heartless  to  the  corre- 
sponding measure  of  her  vanity — but  I  never  thought  she 
was," — he  broke  off, — then  with  a  slight  sigh,  continued — 
"  Perhaps  I  had  better  not  speak  of  her.  I  will  tell  my  wife 
what  you  say, — I  shall  understand  the  whole  situation  better 
when  I  have  talked  it  out  with  her, — but  I  shall  let  noth- 
ing interfere  with  the  course  of  my  duty — you  may  be  sure 
of  that." 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  kindly. 

"  Well,  don't  exceed  your  duty,  that's  all,  Mr.  Everton," 
— he  said — "  Leave  well — or  ill — alone  for  the  present. 
Don't  in  this  case  offer  your  sympathy  or  service  till  you're 


HOLY     ORDERS  123 

asked  for  either.  Let  the  storm  blow  over  first,^or,  in 
other  words,  let  Dan  Kiernan  drink  himself  to  death  if  he 
likes ! — don't  interfere !  " 

"Rather  singular  advice!"  murmured  Everton,  faintly 
smiling, — "  And  not  in  keeping  with  Christian  charity." 

"  Christian  charity  is  out  of  place  in  some  quarters," — 
answered  Brand,  gloomily — "  So  is  Christian  forgiveness. 
General  Gordon  forgave  the  treacherous  rascal  who  after- 
wards trapped  and  killed  him.  Certain  races  don't  under- 
stand forgiveness,  or  kindness  either.  And  drunkards  are 
not,  in  my  opinion,  of  any  race  at  all.  They  are  an  ar- 
tificial, monstrous  spawn  of  the  bottle  and  the  beer-cask, 
and  the  less  one  has  to  do  with  such  microbes  of  disease,  the 
better."  He  paused, — then  went  on  in  a  cheerier  tone — 
"Well,  good-night,  Mr.  Everton!  I'm  sorry  I  had  to  come 
up  at  so  late  an  hour,  but  I  thought  it  would  be  the  wisest 
course  to  tell  you  myself  just  how  things  stood " 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you," — said  Everton,  shaking  hands 
with  him — "  Forewarned  is  always  forearmed,  and  though 
I  do  not  anticipate  any  serious  trouble  with  Dan  Kiernan, 
still  I  shall  keep  an  eye  on  him.  I'm  sure  my  wife  will  be 
quite  shocked  to  hear  of  poor  Mrs.  Kiernan's  death — we  had 
no  idea  her  condition  was  so  serious " 

"  It  wasn't  serious," — said  Brand — "  Not  really  serious 
in  the  way  of  actual  danger  to  life  till — till  she  knew. 
Good-night!" 

In  another  couple  of  minutes  he  had  left  the  house,  and 
Everton,  with  a  slow  step  and  troubled  countenance,  re- 
turned to  the  drawing-room  where  his  wife  was  still  at  the 
piano  singing  '  coon  '  songs.  She  saw  by  his  manner  that 
something  was  wrong,  and  springing  up  from  the  music- 
stool  ran  two  or  three  steps  to  meet  him. 

"What's  the  matter ?"  she  began. 

He  took  her  hands  gently  in  his  own. 

"My  dear  child,"— he  said — "Why  didn't  you  tell  me 
about  Jacynth  Miller  and  Dan  Kiernan  ?  " 

A  hot  blush  crimsoned  her  face  and  neck. 

"I  couldn't,  Dick!  It  seemed  too  horrid!  And  you 
were  so  unsuspecting — and  you  thought  the  girl  had  some 
good  in  her " 


124  HOLY     ORDERS 

He  sighed  heavily. 

"  I  did, — I  certainly  did  think  so !  "  he  said — "  But, 
Azalea,  if  you  couldn't  tell  me,  your  husband,  was  it  quite 
necessary  for  you  to  tell  Mrs.  Kiernan  ?  " 

She  opened  her  eyes  in  genuine  wonderment  at  his  ques- 
tion. 

"  I  thought  so,  certainly," — she  replied — "  Under  all  the 
circumstances,  I  felt  it  was  the  proper  thing  to  do!  But  I 
promised  the  woman  who  was  nursing  her — Mrs.  Adcott 
— that  I  would  not  say  a  word  to  you  about  it  till  she  got 
better " 

Again  he  sighed. 

"  She  will  never  get  better," — he  said,  sorrowfully — "  My 
dear,  she  is  dead !  " 

"  Dead !  "  The  delicate  rose-tint  of  the  pretty  face  so 
close  to  his  own,  paled  into  sudden  whiteness. 

"  Oh,  Dick!     I'm— I'm  so  sorry!  " 

And  like  the  emotional  little  creature  she  was,  she  began 
to  cry. 

"  I'm  sure,"  she  whimpered,  "  I'm  sure  I  never  thought 
she  was  so  ill  as  all  that !  I  wouldn't  have  told  her " 

He  drew  her  into  his  arms,  and  stroked  her  shining  hair 
soothingly. 

"That's  just  it,  darling! — of  course  you  wouldn't  have 
told  her!  I  know  you  wouldn't.  Forgive  me  if  I  say  you 
shouldn't  have  told  her.  I  don't  often  scold  you,  little  one, 
do  I? — and  this  is  my  only  word — you  shouldn't  have  told 
her!  But  you  didn't  think — you  didn't  think " 

He  kissed  her  and  held  her  tenderly,  while  she  wept  and 
rubbed  her  eyes  and  made  her  little  nose  red,  after  the 
fashion  of  a  vexed  child.  And  half  vaguely  he  wondered 
how  many  troubles  in  the  world  could  be  set  down  to  that 
first  cause  '  Didn't  Think.'  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the 
statesmen  who  have  led  their  nations  into  war  '  didn't 
think,' — the  millions  of  bitter  and  slanderous  tongues  that 
have  broken  millions  of  loving  hearts  had  '  Didn't  Think ' 
behind  them, — and  half  the  mistakes,  cruelties  and  evils  of 
mankind  could  be  put  down  to  '  Didn't  Think,'  if  all  the 
truth  were  known. 

"When — when  did  she  die?"  murmured  Azalea  pres- 
ently. 


HOLY     ORDERS  125 

"To-night.  Dr.  Brand  came  up  here  to  tell  me — and 
— to  warn  me " 

"  To  warn  you?  "  She  looked  at  him  with  startled  wet 
eyes. 

"  Yes.  To  warn  me  against  Dan  Kiernan.  He  is  on 
the  drink  again — and  is  dangerous, — more  dangerous  than 
ever,  so  it  appears  now  Jacynth  Miller  has  gone." 

"  Jacynth  Miller  gone?    Where?" 

"  No  one  knows." 

Here  he  released  her  from  his  arms  and  walked  slowly 
up  and  down  the  room.  Presently  he  stopped  again  and 
faced  her.  "  It  seems  an  awful  thing  to  say  to  you,  Azalea, 
but  I  suppose  you  must  know  it, — Brand  wants  you  to  keep 
away  from  the  village  just  now — for  a  few  days  at  any 
rate." 

"Wants  me  to  keep  away?  Me?"  she  exclaimed — 
"But  why?" 

"  For  a  reason  that  is  almost  too  horrible  and  unnatural 
to  think  of ! "  and  Everton's  voice  trembled  with  indigna- 
tion as  he  spoke — "  Dan  Kiernan  says  you  have  killed  his 
wife — you,  my  poor  little  Azalea! — and  swears  he'll  have 
vengeance  for  it — now  there ! — don't  look  so  frightened !  " 

For  at  his  words,  she  had  dropped  on  the  sofa  in  a  small 
huddled  heap,"  her  dainty  tea-gown  falling  about  her  in 
cloudy  folds,  from  which  her  face  peered  pallidly  like  that 
of  a  ghost. 

"Killed  his  wife!"  she  whispered,  with  white  lips — 

"  He  says  I 1  have  killed  his  wife!  Oh,  Dick,  Dick! " 

And  she  stretched  out  her  arms  to  him — "  Let  me  go  away ! 
Don't  let  me  stay  here!  It's  too  awful!" 

She  seemed  about  to  faint,  and  the  terrified  expression 
of  her  eyes  alarmed  him. 

"  My  dearest,  you  mustn't  take  it  in  this  way," — he  said, 
sitting  down  beside  her,  and  putting  an  arm  round  her 
waist — "  The  man  is  an  habitual  drunkard  and  doesn't  know 
half  his  time  what  he's  talking  about.  The  fact  is  he  killed 
his  wife  himself — no  one  else  had  any  hand  in  it " 

"  I'm  not  so  sure — oh,  I'm  not  so  sure!  "  and  she  shud- 
dered violently — "  She  had  not  a  word  to  say  against  him 
— she  loved  him!  Even  when  I  told  her  what  I  had  heard, 
and  what  I  knew  about  Jacynth  Miller,  she  wouldn't  be- 


126  HOLY     ORDERS 

lieve  it — oh,  Dick!  It's  my  fault! — it's  my  fault,  really! — 
J  know  it  is! — it  is  through  me  that  the  poor  woman  has 
died!" 

And  she  suddenly  gave  way  to  an  outbreak  of  hysterical 
weeping,  uttering  little  gasping  cries  and  sobs  that  con- 
vulsed her  whole  slight  frame.  Everton  was  in  despair. 
He  knew  not  what  to  say  that  would  comfort  her — he  could 
only  hold  her  in  his  arms  and  try  to  soothe  her  by  murmured 
words  of  love,  mingled  with  kisses  and  caresses. 

"  You  must  send  me  away — oh,  you  will  send  me  away!  " 
she  sobbed — "  I'm  afraid — I'm  afraid  of  Dan  Kiernan ! 
He'll  say  something  cruel  to  me — he  will,  Dick! — oh,  don't 
let  him  come  near  me — don't!  I  never  meant  any  harm — 
but  though  I  never  meant  it,  I  see  I  have  done  it! — and  I 
.shall  never  get  over  it,  Dick,  never!  How  can  I  go  on  liv- 
ing in  Shadbrook  after  this?  Oh,  Dick! — to  think  that  I — 
your  wife — should  be  so  dreadfully  accused !  I  must  go 
away! — darling,  you  will  let  me  go  away  at  once,  won't 
you? — I  and  Baby  and  Nurse — we  will  all  go  together  to 

the  sea-side  for  a  while  till  this  trouble  is  over "  And 

as  she  spoke  she  dried  her  eyes,  choked  down  her  tears,  and 
looked  hopefully  at  him — "  Let  us  start  to-morrow  morn- 
ing!" 

For  a  moment  he  was  silent.  For  a  moment  the  chord  of 
Self  sounded  in  his  soul,  suggesting  the  query — "  Is  this 
the  help  a  wife  should  give  her  husband  in  hours  of  diffi- 
culty?" And  then  he  bravely  put  the  thought  aside. 

"  You  shall  do  as  you  like,  Azalea," — he  said,  kindly — 
"  Only, — remember  that  if  you  go  away  just  now  it  will 
look  as  if  you  really  thought  Dan  Kiernan's  wild  and  wicked 
words  had  sober  justice  in  them.  Why  should  you  be  afraid 
of  a  drunkard?  You  are  perfectly  innocent  of  any  harm- 
ful intention, — you  spoke  to  Mrs.  Kiernan  as  nineteen  out 
of  twenty  women  would  have  spoken  under  the  circum- 
stances,— and  my  chief  regret  is  that  I  did  not  know  the 
whole  story — as  I  might  have  perhaps  been  able  to  suggest 
a  different  course  for  you  to  take.  Kiernan  is  probably 
much  more  enraged  by  the  loss  of  Jacynth  Miller  than  by 
the  death  of  his  wife — and  you  certainly  have  nothing  to  do 
with  that.  I  confess  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  your  going 
.away.  I  would  much  rather  you  stayed  at  home  and  went 


HOLY     ORDERS  127 

en  with  your  ordinary  duties  in  your  usual  manner,  like  a 
brave  little  woman " 

Her  lips  quivered,  and  more  tears  fell. 

"  I'm  not  brave," — she  said,  pathetically — "  I  never  was 
and  I  never  shall  be!  I  think  it  will  be  simply  dreadful  if 
I  have  to  go  about  the  village  hearing  all  the  details  of 
Mrs.  Kiernan's  death  over  and  over  again,  and  all  the  story 
of  Jacynth  Miller's  running  off  with  one  of  the  other 
men " 

"  One  of  the  other  men  ? "  repeated  Everton,  surprised, 
— "  What  other  men  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure!  "  and  she  sighed  wearily — "  It's 
all  quite  strange  to  me,  and  quite  horrid, — but  Mrs.  Adcott 
said,  when  speaking  of  Jacynth,  that  there  were  plenty  of 
men  who  would  take  her,  even  knowing  everything  about 
her, — so  I  can  only  suppose  she  has  gone  with  one  of  them. 
And  I  think  it  will  be  really  cruel  to  you,  Dick,  if  after 
what  that  awful  man  Kiernan  has  said,  you  force  me  to  stay 
here " 

"  I  ?  I  '  force  '  you !  "  he  said,  wonderingly — "  My  dear 
Azalea,  can  you  imagine  my  applying  '  force '  to  you  in  any 
way,  save  the  force  of  love  ?  " 

She  did  not  hear,  or  rather  she  did  not  choose  to  hear, 
the  little  touch  of  reproach  in  his  accents. 

"  Well  then,  let  me  go !  "  she  pleaded — "  It  would  make 
me  perfectly  ill  to  be  shut  up  here, —  (for  I  know  I  shouldn't 
dare  to  go  out) — while  all  the  people  are  fussing  over  Mrs. 
Kiernan's  funeral,  and  that  dreadful  drunkard  is  reeling 
about  the  village  saying  such  horrid  wicked  things  about  me, 
— I'd  much  rather  be  away " 

"  You'll  find  the  dreadful  drunkard  reeling  about  just 
the  same  when  you  come  back," — he  said. 

She  wiped  her  eyes  and  smoothed  her  hair,  and  the  shadow 
of  a  returning  smile  flitted  over  her  face. 

"Perhaps  not!"  she  rejoined,  hopefully — "Perhaps  he 
will  have  reeled  after  Jacynth  Miller,  and  gone  out  of  the 
place  altogether ! " 

Her  words  annoyed  him, — and  yet  he  could  not  have 
reasonably  expressed  annoyance.  He  took  a  couple  of 
minutes  to  consider,  and  then  made  up  his  mind. 

"  Very   well,   Azalea," — he   said — "  Have   it   your   own 


128  HOLY     ORDERS 

way!  You  shall  go.  You  can  start  to-morrow  morning 
for  Weston, — that's  not  so  very  far  off — with  Laurence 
and  the  nurse — I  daresay  the  change  will  do  all  three  of 
you  good " 

She  interrupted  him  by  throwing  her  arms  round  his 
neck  and  kissing  him. 

"Oh,  you  are  a  dear  old  Dick!"  she  exclaimed,  her 
eyes  sparkling  with  a  sudden  sunshiny  gayety  that  effectively 
dispersed  all  traces  of  her  recent  tears  and  terror — "  It 
will  be  simply  lovely  to  get  out  of  Shadbrook  for  a  little 
while, — because — well! — you  know,  though  it's  ever  so 
pretty,  it's  dull — awfully  dull  sometimes!  There  are  no 
shops,  and  no  people  worth  looking  at, — and  when  there's 
nothing  but  funerals  going  on,  it's  a  little  trying! — it  is, 
really,  Dick!  You  don't  mind  it,  because  you  have  such 
grand  ideas  about  duty  and  all  that, — but  I'm  afraid  I 
haven't  any  grand  ideas,  and  I  do  mind  it,  often!  If  this 
house  and  garden  could  only  be  moved  into  some  nicer 
place " 

He  looked  at  her  earnestly. 

"You  don't  like  Shadbrook  then?"  he  said. 

She  shook  her  fair  head  very  decisively. 

"  Not  at  all !  "  she  replied — "  How  could  any  one  like 
a  dreary  little  village  where  the  people  do  nothing  from 
one  year's  end  to  another  but  get  drunk  and  quarrel  and 
die?" 

He  smiled,  a  trifle  bitterly. 

"  It's  a  small  epitome  of  a  very  large  part  of  the  world 
around  us,  Azalea, — look  at  it  how  you  will," — and  rising 
from  beside  her,  he  paced  the  room  in  an  effort  to  quiet 
his  struggling  sense  of  impatience — "  And  think  how  many 
such  '  dreary  villages '  there  are  in  Great  Britain,  where 
often  the  most  promising  men  among  the  clergy  have  to 
work  for  the  best  part  of  their  lives!  Shadbrook  is  by  no 
means  the  worst  example  of  such  lonely  parishes, — and 
when  I  came  here  first,  I  thought  myself  a  very  lucky  man. 
For  the  possession  of  the  living  enabled  me  to  marry  you, 
Azalea !  " — and  his  voice  trembled  a  little — "  And — and  we 
have  been  very  happy! — and  our  boy  was  born  here " 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  that !  "  and  she  smiled  radiantly  up  at 


HOLY     ORDERS  129 

him — "  And  it's  all  lovely  and  sentimental  and  nice  to 
think  about, — but  you  can't  deny  that  it's  dull,  Dick,  you 
know  you  can't!  There  are  about  two  garden-parties  a 
year  to  which  one  can  go, — just  for  form's  sake — not  for 
pleasure,  because  no  one  ever  goes  to  a  provincial  garden- 
party  for  pleasure,  of  course! — and  nobody  ever  gives  a 
nice  dinner,  because  it's  too  expensive,  and  too  much  trouble 
to  get  hired  waiters  for  the  occasion — besides,  there  are  no 
people  to  ask — and  you  can't  set  out  a  dinner  without  peo- 
ple to  eat  it!  There's  nothing,  in  fact,  for  us  but  the  vil- 
lage and  the  church — and  WTC  must  make  the  best  of  them,  I 
know!  Indeed  I  do  make  the  best  of  them — but  when  it 
comes  to  a  drunken  brute  like  Kiernan  saying  I've  killed 
his  wife,  well,  really,  Dick,  I  do  feel  that  it's  about  as  much 
as  I  can  bear!  And  I  don't  think  I'm  asking  too  much  of 
you  to  let  me  go  out  of  it  all  for  a  few  days ! " 

"  My  dear  child,  it's  settled  that  you  go," — he  answered 
quietly — "  And  there's  nothing  more  to  be  said  about  it." 
He  paused, — then  added — "  It's  past  eleven  o'clock — fully 
bedtime.  You'd  better  see  Nurse  Tomkins  on  your  way 

upstairs  and  tell  her  of  your  intentions  for  to-morrow " 

"  Oh  yes, — of  course !  She'll  have  to  pack  Baby's  things." 
And  without  another  word  she  ran  off  fleetly,  full  of  de- 
light at  the  prospect  of  a  journey  and  a  change  of  scene. 
No  thought  for  her  husband  entered  her  head — no  sudden 
tenderness  moved  her  to  look  back  and  say :  "  I  wish  you 
were  coming  with  me," — or — "  I'm  sorry  to  leave  you 
alone."  A  man  was  always  '  all  right,'  she  thought,  under 
any  circumstances,  and  she  would  have  been  genuinely  sur- 
prised and  possibly  distressed  had  she  known  that  the  heart 
of  the  man  who  loved  her  was  as  heavy  as  lead,  and  aching 
sorely  in  its  heaviness  as  though  a  poisoned  arrow  had  flown 
to  its  core.  He  went  to  the  table  where  he  had  been  reading 
when  Brand's  visit  had  interrupted  him,  and  mechanically 
took  up  the  book  he  had  laid  down  there.  Glancing  casually 
at  the  open  page,  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  words — "  Love  does 
not  always  lead  to  marriage,  and  marriage  is  sometimes  the 
end  of  love.  The  most  lasting  passion  is  that  which  re- 
mains ungratified — and  the  truest  lovers  throughout  all  his- 
tory are  those  that  never  wedded." 


130  HOLY     ORDERS 

This  passage  stung  him  with  a  curious  sense  of  personal 
irritation — the  book  was  a  novel,  and  he  flung  it  down  with 
a  gesture  of  aversion. 

"  Ridiculous !  "  he  said — "  Wrong-sided  and  utterly  ridic- 
ulous! No  wonder  modern  fiction  is  so  often  condemned! 
The  statement  is  utterly  false,  for  marriage  is  the  very  ful- 
fillment of  love — and  married  life  the  perfect  making  of  a 
perfect  home." 

And  he  would  not  allow  himself  to  think  any  further  as 
to  whether  '  fulfillment '  did  not,  after  all,  imply  an  end  to 
aspiration ; — or  whether  '  the  perfect  making  of  a  perfect 
home  '  waS  secured  to  him  by  his  own  married  experience. 
The  pursuit  of  a  logical  inquiry  often  leads  to  unexpected 
results,  and  he  was  not  in  the  mood  to  follow  out  any  ar- 
gument suggested  by  Sense,  preferring  to  remain  pained  and 
perplexed  by  Sentiment. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

NEXT  day  Azalea  went  away  as  arranged, — and  so  far 
as  her  husband  was  concerned,  the  Vicarage  became 
a  dreary  waste  of  desolation.  Yet  he  was  the  embodied 
spirit  of  cheerfulness  itself  to  the  last  moment  of  her  de- 
parture, helping  to  place  her,  with  the  cherubic  Laurence 
and  his  nurse,  all  comfortably  together  in  the  high  dog- 
cart, which, — drawn  by  one  slow  and  somewhat  asthmatical 
mare  and  driven  by  the  gardener's  lad, — took  them  to  the 
station  some  four  miles  distant  from  the  village.  Never, 
so  he  thought,  had  he  seen  his  pretty  wife  looking  prettier; 
she  was  full  of  laughter  and  sparkling  animation,  like  a 
child  leaving  school  for  the  holidays.  '  Master  Laurence ' 
too  had  a  new  and  radiant  light  of  pleased  wonder  in  his 
angelic  blue  eyes, — a  larger  world  than  Shadbrook  was 
opening  out  before  him, — and  his  father  almost  envied  him 
the  fact  that  he  was  going  to  look  at  the  sea  for  the  first 
time.  Whether  he  would  be  impressed  by  it  was  quite 
another  matter,  for  whatever  his  emotion  might  be  at  the 
glorious  scene  presented  to  his  awakening  intelligence,  he 
would  have  no  means  of  expressing  it.  Yet  Everton  was 
foolish  enough  to  wish  he  could  have  watched  his  little 
son's  face  when  the  rolling  mass  of  glittering  waters  first 
broke  upon  his  young  vision.  Azalea's  ideas  on  the  point 
were  what  all  ordinary  people  would  have  termed  '  sensible ' 
ideas, — they  were  limited  to  the  building  of  sand-castles 
and  the  carrying  about  of  toy  pails  wherein  to  capture 
specimens  of  the  infant  crab, — and  of  what  the  real  effect 
of  the  grandeur  and  immensity  of  ocean  might  be  on  the 
mind  of  a  more  than  usually  thoughtful  child,  she  cared 
not  to  inquire.  '  Baby  dear '  was  too  young  to  think  at 
all,  so  she  imagined, — a  mistake  made  by  most  mothers, 
often  to  their  own  detriment.  Anyway  the  little  party 
seated  in  the  dog-cart  and  drawn  by  the  old  mare,  looked 
an  irresistibly  happy  one,  and  Everton  could  not  flatter 


i32  HOLY     ORDERS 

himself  that  his  presence  was  either  desired  or  missed.  Off 
they  went,  jogging  down  the  Vicarage  drive,  Azalea  waving 
her  hand  and  blowing  kisses  to  him  till  a  turn  in  the  road 
hid  him  from  her  sight, — and  it  was  with  a  very  decided 
sense  of  pain  and  loss  that  he  re-entered  his  house — alone. 

Once  in  his  study  he  shut  the  door,  and  seating  himself 
at  his  desk,  went  steadily  to  work,  determined  to  think  of 
nothing  save  his  duty, — nothing  except  church  and  school 
and  parish  affairs.  There  were  many  trifling  matters  to  at- 
tend to, — how  trifling  only  the  incumbent  of  a  country 
living  knows.  The  ludicrous  local  quarrels, — the  mean  and 
petty  injuries, — the  malicious  attempts  of  one  '  Christian  ' 
neighbor  to  annoy  another, — all  these  things  come  more  or 
less  under  the  notice  of  the  Vicar  set  in  authority  over  a 
rural  community,  and  if  he  be  not  a  man  as  small-minded 
as  the  majority  of  the  rustic  folk  around  him  (which  he 
too  frequently  is),  he  must  needs  often  be  moved  to  a  won- 
dering and  well-nigh  despairing  pity  for  the  infinitely  little 
stupidities  of  poor  human-kind.  For  though  large  cities 
show  precisely  the  same  low  animosities  and  attenuated 
jealousies,  they  are  not  brought  so  closely  under  the  eye  as 
in  the  restricted  circle  of  a  village.  Mrs.  Loftylids  may 
give  herself  as  many  airs  as  she  likes  in  London  and  London 
sees  her  not, — but  Mrs.  Loftylids  on  her  high  horse  in  the 
country  is  quite  a  different  and  much  more  observably 
odious  person.  The  smaller  the  place,  the  more  narrow 
the  life.  And  so  Richard  Everton  was  beginning  to  find  it. 

He  sorted  the  various  letters  and  papers  on  his  table, 
with  a  settled  precision  which  indicated  that  he  was  forcing 
his  attention  to  dwell  on  matters  distasteful  to  his  immediate 
humor,  and  among  them  he  came  upon  a  respectfully  worded 
intimation  from  the  village  carpenter,  who  was  also  the 
undertaker,  to  the  effect  that  Mrs.  Kiernan  having  died,  it 
was  proposed,  '  according  to  the  wishes  of  Mr.  Kiernan, 
the  widower,'  to  have  the  funeral  next  day,  if  he,  the  Vicar, 
would  name  a  convenient  hour.  He  answered  this  at  once, 
fixing  the  ceremony  for  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and 
sent  the  letter  to  its  destination  straight  away  by  one  of 
his  servants  as  a  personal  messenger.  There  should  be  no 
delay,  he  thought  somewhat  drearily,  in  burying  all  that 
was  mortal  of  Mrs.  Kiernan, — poor,  long-suffering, 


HOLY     ORDERS  133 

wretched  Jennie  Kiernan,  who  had  been  killed  by  sheer 
brutality.  The  brutality  of  blows — or  the  brutality  of 
words  ? — ah  no,  no !  Azalea  could  never  be  '  brutal ' — she 
was  thoughtless,  but  not  unkind, — she  had  done  no  harm — 
she  had  not  the  smallest  share  of  blame  in  the  woman's 
death — it  was  cruel  to  suggest  it — cruel  to  say  it !  He  shud- 
dered at  his  own  thoughts,  which  like  swarming  bees  buzzed 
round  the  whole  miserable  incident, — an  incident  beginning 
more  or  less  trivially,  and  deepening  into  something  of  a 
tragedy.  And,  as  usual,  he  laid  all  the  blame  on  his  own 
shoulders.  His  endeavor  to  save  Mrs.  Kiernan  from  further 
assault  by  her  drunken  husband  had  surely,  so  he  declared  to 
himself,  led  to  the  present  disastrous  result,  and  all  suddenly 
he  asked : — "  Is  it  just  of  the  Almighty  to  allow  a  kindness 
to  be  brought  back  in  the  shape  of  a  curse  ?  "  He  recoiled 
from  his  own  temerity  as  this  demand  leaped  up  in  his 
brain  like  a  flash  of  fire.  Yet  it  repeated  itself.  "  I  ask  " 
— said  the  vexed  Soul  within  him — "  if  it  is  right  that  an 
honest  effort  to  follow  the  teaching  of  the  Christian  Creed 
should  be  rewarded  by  a  frightful  and  unmerited  accusation 
against  the  innocent  woman  I  love?  "  And  then  he  paused, 
as  though  awaiting  an  answer.  Strangely,  solemnly,  and 
as  with  an  inward  voice,  the  answer  came  in  the  form  of 
another  query:  "Is  it  right  that  I,  the  Divine  Crucified, 
should  have  given  My  life  on  earth  for  men  who  doubt  Me 
and  blaspheme  Me  even  now  ?  "  And  in  the  sudden  sense 
of  awe  and  contrition  which  fell  upon  him,  he  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands  and  prayed  silently — "  Lead  me  not 
into  temptation,  but  deliver  me  from  evil,  O  Lord!  Com- 
mand me  as  Thou  wilt! — send  me  Thy  Holy  Orders,  and 
even  if  they  lead  me  to  my  death,  I,  ordained  to  serve 
Thee,  will  obey !  " 

And  on  this  his  mind  appeared  to  pause, — till  it  seemed 
to  him  that  his  vow  had  been  accepted.  Then  in  a  moment 
or  two  he  was  calm  again,  and  went  on  with  his  usual  work. 

How  much  he  missed  Azalea,  he  would  not  allow  himself 
to  think.  Ever  since  he  had  brought  her  home  to  the 
Vicarage  as  his  bride,  it  had  been  the  joy  of  his  life  to  know 
that  at  any  moment  her  fair  head  might  peep  into  his  study 
or  her  voice  call  to  him  in  the  accents  of  coaxing  sweetness 
to  which  he  had  grown  so  fondly  accustomed.  But  now  the 


134  HOLY     ORDERS 

house  was  empty, — bereft  of  light,  music,  laughter  and  love. 
He  was  alone  with  his  own  thinking  Self  and  God, — God, 
that  mighty  Unknown  Power  to  whom  for  millions  of  ages 
Creation  has  cried  and  prayed  and  wept, — God,  that  ma- 
jestic Silence  which  is  never  disturbed  for  all  the  clamor  of 
men — which  creates  and  kills  at  a  breath,  and  no  reason 
given, — which  is  Light  and  Darkness,  Gladness  and  Sor- 
row, Love  and  Hate  in  one, — and  which  we  instinctively 
worship  in  all  creeds,  not  so  much  because  we  will,  but 
because  we  must.  But  it  is  natuarl  to  weak  man  to  pre- 
fer the  warm  tenderness  of  a  woman's  arms  about  him  to 
the  awful  coldness  of  a  bodiless  Infinity,  no  matter  how 
full  of  exquisite  promise  and  glorious  suggestion  that  In- 
finity may  be, — and  it  was  therefore  to  be  expected  that 
Richard  Everton,  who  for  all  his  anxiety  to  live  a  purely 
spiritual  life,  had  a  tender,  sensitive  heart  of  his  own, 
would,  for  the  time  being,  feel  a  melancholy  sense  of  soli- 
tude in  the  absence  of  his  pretty  wife,  with  a  corresponding 
depression  of  spirits.  There  was  one  thought  which  now 
and  then  pushed  itself  resolutely  into  the  cells  of  his  brain, 
to  be  as  resolutely  pushed  out  again  by  the  strong  effort 
of  his  will, — the  thought  of  Jacynth  Miller.  He  hated, 
with  an  intensity  of  hatred  that  surprised  himself,  the  mem- 
ory of  that  girl's  exquisite  face,  illumined  by  its  large,  star- 
like  dark  eyes,  and  when  he  asked  his  inner  consciousness 
the  reason  of  the  bitterness  which  filled  him,  he  had  to 
confess  frankly  like  a  man,  that  it  was  because  she  had 
chosen  Dan  Kiernan  for  a  lover.  The  huge,  strongly-built 
brute — a  creature  whose  brawny  physique  might  have  served 
as  a  model  for  one  of  the  barbaric  chieftains  of  early  Britain, 
— he,  full  of  a  chronic  delirium  of  drink — he,  ignorant, 
boorish  and  bestial — he,  even  he,  had  been  privileged  to 
take  the  kisses  of  that  fresh,  rosy  smiling  mouth, — he  had 
held  that  light,  lissom  body  in  his  coarse  embrace — by 
Heaven! — Everton  sprang  up  from  his  chair  and  paced  the 
room,  stung  to  something  like  fury  by  the  horrible  sugges- 
tiveness  of  the  picture.  And  where  was  Jacynth  now?  With 
whom  had  she  gone?  He  understood  at  last  the  frantic 
despair  of  young  Bob  Hadley  on  his  deathbed,  and  his 
agonized  entreaty :  "  Try  if  you  can  do  anything — save  her 
from  herself — from  the  shame "  Shame  there  was  none 


HOLY     ORDERS  135 

in  Jacynth, — of  course  there  could  be  none; — nevertheless 
the  wild  cries  of  the  dying  lad  rang  echoingly  in  his  ears 
— "Hold  her!  See  where  she  goes!  Running,  running, 
running  straight  into  Hell!  Jacynth!  All  the  devils  at 
her — tearing  her  lovely  body — her  lovely  body  that  God 
made !  "  And  then  those  awful  words — "  God !  There's 
no  God !  There  never  was !  It's  all  a  lie !  "  With  the 
utmost  strength  of  his  soul  he  fought  against  the  storm  of 
indignation  that  strove  to  overwhelm  his  habitual  composure 
— and  snatching  up  a  book  from  the  table  he  read  a  few 
sentences  hurriedly  to  distract  himself.  The  book  happened 
to  be  Amiel's  Journal  and  the  passages  which  caught  his 
eyes  were  these: 

"  Do  not  despise  your  situation ;  in  it  you  must  act,  suf- 
fer, and  conquer.  From  every  point  on  earth  we  are  equally 
near  to  heaven,  and  to  the  infinite. 

"  There  are  two  state  or  conditions  of  pride.  The  first 
is  one  of  self-approval,  the  second,  one  of  self-contempt. 
Pride  is  seen  probably  at  its  purest  in  the  last." 

He  shut  the  volume. 

"  Measured  by  that  I  am  the  proudest  man  alive !  "  he 
said,  "  For  my  self-contempt  is  almost  limitless !  I  could 
whip  myself  with  a  scourge  for  the  ridiculous  mood  I  am 
in!  A  mood  unlike  me  altogether, — a  paltry,  raging,  ir- 
ritable mood  which  is  absolutely  unworthy  of  any  being 
calling  itself  human !  " 

He  turned  towards  the  window  just  in  time  to  see  a 
figure  passing  it  outside — a  small,  dapper,  clerical  figure 
which  he  at  once  recognized  as  that  of  the  little  Roman 
Catholic  priest  Sebastien  Douay,  who  had  called  upon  him 
a  few  days  previously.  Hailing  his  unexpected  visitor  as 
a  welcome  relief  to  his  unpleasant  meditations,  he  hurried 
to  meet  him  at  the  door. 

"  And  if  he  will,  he  shall  stay  to  luncheon  this  time,  cold 
mutton  or  no  cold  mutton !  "  he  decided — "  I'm  a  grass 
widower  just  now,  and  can  do  as  I  like !  " 

In  another  moment  Douay  was  in  the  study,  his  cheery 
round  face  beaming  with  smiles. 

"  So  I  am  come  in   happy  time!  "  he  said,  rubbing  his 


136  HOLY     ORDERS 

hands  together  like  a  pleased  child — "  Your  wife  has  gone 
away?  And  why  so?" 

Everton  explained  that  she  needed  a  few  days'  change  of 
air  at  the  sea  side. 

"Ah!  And  you  are  like  Mistaire  Adam,  before  le  bon 
Dieu  took  away  his  best  rib !  "  said  Douay,  his  blue-gray 
eyes  twinkling  merrily — "  He  was  no  doubt  quite  strong 
and  jolly  till  he  lost  that  so  valuable  bone!  He  has  been 
weak  ever  since !  " 

Everton  laughed, — and  Douay  went  on — 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  have  now  a  church — a  very 
leetle  poor  church  in  a  most  sad  and  dirty  leetle  village  near 
the  place  where  they  brew  the  beer  for  Mistaire  Minchin. 
It  is  a  beginning — and  some  of  the  French  fathers  have 
bought  land  there — but  for  me  there  is  a  tin  chapelle  and 
a  cottage — so  I  shall  do  myself  all  right.  I  have  command 
to  start  a  Catholique  mission — it  will  be  something — not 
much — for  there  are  so  few  people, — but  the  Church  say 
I  must  do  it,  and  one  must  obey  the  Holy  Orders." 

Everton  looked  at  him  thoughtfully. 

"  True !  "  he  said — "  But  your  '  holy  orders  '  and  mine 
are  different." 

"  That  is  so," — agreed  Douay,  cheerfully — "  and  the  holy 
orders  of  the  so  respectable  Buddha  are  again  different, — 
and  of  the  terrible  Mahomet  again  different!  All  separate 
households,  my  dear  sir ! — where  each  poor  servant  must  obey 
the  master  who  pays  the  wages!  " 

A  slight  shadow  crossed  Everton's  face. 

"  I  do  not  regard  it  quite  in  that  way," — he  began  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"  You  do  not  ?  But  why  not  ?  You  would  not  be  singu- 
lar! There  are  parsons  of  your  Church  who  write  to  the 
newspapers — ah! — such  remarkable  newspapers  you  have  in 
England! — to  say  that  they  shall  not  let  their  sons  become 
clergymen  as  the  pay  is  so  poor!  Ha-ha!  That  is  so  ex- 
cellent a  serving  of  Christ! — so  true  to  the  Gospel!  And 
your  remarkable  newspapers  print  these  kind  of  letters  from 
the  clergy;  then  is  it  a  surprise  that  your  people  do  not  be- 
lieve their  teachers  in  religion  and  stay  away  from  the 
church?  There  are  many  mistakes  in  the  Catholique  faith 
— but  it  is  seldom — if  ever — that  you  will  find  a  Catholique 


HOLY     ORDERS  137 

priest   complaining  of   his  leetle   '  pay '   in   a  public  news- 


paper 


"  I  am  afraid  you  are  right,"  said  Everton,  with  a  sigh — • 
"  There's  too  much  talk  of  money  in  everything  nowadays. 
But  of  course,  even  a  clergyman  must  live " 

"  And  have  a  comfortable  '  living  '  1  "  supplemented 
Douay,  with  a  genial  laugh — "  And  marry, — a  pretty  wife, 
sans  doute! — and  have  children — and  send  these  leetle  ones 
to  school!  All  expensive  work! — and  the  Catholique  priest 
must  do  without  these  luxuries >" 

"  Does  he  always  do  without  them?  "  demanded  Everton, 
with  sudden  boldness. 

Douay  smiled,  in  no  wise  disconcerted. 

"  Not  always,  perhaps," — he  replied — "  Even  a  Catho- 
lique priest  may  make  a  fool  of  himself !  But  if  he  is  so  much 
a  fool  as  to  break  the  celibate  rule  of  his  order  he  is  finished ! 
— done  for!  I  myself  would  go  further — I  would  say  that 
any  minister  of  the  Gospel  who  marries  is  finished  also! 
Done  for ! — yes  indeed ! — quite  done  for !  " 

He  spoke  in  such  a  perfectly  good-natured  way  that  Ever- 
ton was  more  amused  than  annoyed. 

"  According  to  that," — he  said — "  I  am  no  use  and  never 
shall  be  of  any  use.  For  I  am  one  of  the  married." 

"  I  know !  "  and  Douay  nodded  his  head  emphatically — 
"  That  is  why  I  say  my  thought.  Very  rude  of  me, — but  you 
will  pardon !  For  what  does  Our  Lord  teach  us — '  Take  no 
thought  saying  What  shall  we  eat?  or,  What  shall  we  drink? 
— or,  Wherewithal  shall  we  be  clothed?  (For  after  all  these 
things  do  the  Gentiles  seek : )  for  your  heavenly  Father  know- 
eth  that  ye  have  need  of  all  these  things.  But  seek  ye  first 
the  kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness;  and  all  these 
things  shall  be  added  unto  you.  Take  therefore  no  thought 
for  the  morrow, — for  the  morrow  shall  take  thought  for  the 
things  of  itself.'  Now  will  you  tell  me,  my  dear  Mistaire 
Everton,  that  a  married  man  is  able  to  take  no  thought  for 
the  morrow?  " 

Everton  was  silent  for  a  moment.    Then  he  said : 

"  But  surely  even  a  Catholic  priest  does  not  work  blindly 
on,  regardless  of  his  future  ?  " 

"Ah,  but  that  is  just  it!  It  is  precisely  what  so  many 
priests  Catholiques  do — work  blindly  on! — comme  des  mou- 


138  HOLY     ORDERS 

tons !  '  Blindly  '  is  very  true.  They  do  not  know, — and 
they  must  not  see.  They  obey!  As  soldiers  obey  their  su- 
perior officers,  so  we  obey  the  orders  of  Rome.  We  may  be 
in  one  place  to-day,  another  to-morrow.  But  we  move  under 
command.  It  is  not  our  business  to  make  question.  Always 
before  us  hangs  the  Cross  with  the  patient  Saviour  upon  it, 
— it  is  the  model  of  our  lives.  We  must  nail  down  all  per- 
sonal desires.  We  must  crucify  ourselves.  It  is  hard! — 
sometimes ! — but  " — and  here  Douay's  voice  sank  to  a  sud- 
den tenderness — "when  the  troubles  of  youth  are  past, — 
when  we  can  look  back  upon  what  we  thought  was  so  cruel 
to  miss, — we  find  that  we  have  not  lost  so  much  as  we  have 
gained !  " 

Something  struggled  in  Everton's  soul  akin  to  a  passionate 
pain  and  clamorous  protest, — was  this  man,  this  priest  of  a 
rival  creed,  nearer  the  truth  of  Christianity  than  he?  And 
was  Christianity  itself  such  an  arbitrary  law  after  all  that  it 
forbade  the  love  of  woman?  Young  Hadley's  words  came 
back  upon  his  memory — "  Love,  I  say ! — love ! — it's  what 
the  Lord  Christ  never  knew — it's  what  He  missed — love  for 
a  woman ! — and  there  He  fails  to  be  our  brother  in  sorrow !  " 
And  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  face  of  Jacynth  gleamed  like  a 
mirage  in  the  air  and  vanished. 

"  You  speak  with  a  very  admirable  resignation  to  the  rule 
of  your  Church," — he  said,  then — "  But,  if  Science  is  a 
reflex  of  Divine  Law  (as  we  are  bound  to  think  it  is),  then 
Science  shows  us  that  the  union  of  sexes  is  the  cause  of  their 
continuance.  Without  love  and  marriage  mankind  would 
cease  to  be.  The  birds  and  beasts,  the  insects  and  the  flowers 
mate  and  are  happy  in  mating, — they  are  God's  creations 
and  serve  Him  without  complaint  or  disobedience,  and 
surely  He  cares  for  them!  It  is  we  who  complain, — it  is 
we  who  disobey, — we  fight  against  law  and  would  upset  it 
if  we  could,  by  training  ourselves  to  live  unnatural  lives, 
and  thinking  that  we  serve  God  best  by  opposing  ourselves 
to  His  visible  governance.  I  do  not  agree  with  you  that  mar- 
riage unfits  a  man  for  devotion  to  the  service  of  Christ.  On 
the  contrary,  I  believe  it  strengthens  him." 

Douay  smiled. 

"  It  is  well  for  you  that  you  think  so," — he  said — "  And 
in  these  matters  we  must  not  argue  too  far.  The  opinion  is 


HOLY     ORDERS  139 

different,  but  the  woman  is  always  the  same!  Yes — 'the 
woman  is  always  the  mischief !  "  Here  his  smile  broadened 
into  a  laugh.  "  Imagine!  If  there  had  been  no  woman  in 
the  case,  this  good  England  would  still  have  been  Catholique ! 
But  the  nation  ran  away  from  the  Pope  all  because  the  so 
affectionate  Henry  the  Eighth  fell  in  love  with  pretty 
Anne  Boleyn!  So  much  will  hang  on  a  leetle  thread.  No 
Anne  Boleyn — no  Church  Protestant !  " 

"True!"  and  a  sudden  warmth  of  feeling  transfigured 
Everton's  pale,  intellectual  face  with  a  light  as  though  some 
fiery  thought  had  inwardly  illumined  it — "  A  woman  is  at  the 
core  of  every  great  reform  in  the  world  of  men.  We  may 
affect  to  despise  women  and  make  light  of  their  power, — we 
may  even  in  the  fullness  of  our  masculine  self-sufficiency 
strive  to  avoid  them  as  obstacles  in  the  progress  of  our  own 
well-being — but  they  conquer  in  the  end !  You  say  '  No 
Anne  Boleyn,  no  Church  Protestant.'  My  thoughts  go 
further, — and  I  say  with  all  reverence :  No  Virgin  Mary,  no 
Christ!" 

Douay  gave  him  a  quick,  surprised  look. 

"  A  la  bonheur!  "  he  exclaimed — "  We  agree  so  far!  Let 
us  now  cease  to  be  serious !  Let  us  talk  of  something  droll — 
of  this  village,  for  instance — this  leetle  parish  for  which  you 
are  too  big !  " 

"Too  big?"  echoed  Everton— "  Not  I!"  and  he  sighed 
involuntarily — "  I'm  afraid  I'm  too  small  and  too  weak 
altogether  to  manage  even  this  poor  handful  of  souls.  I 
feel  my  limitations  bitterly.  You  see  there's  not  much  to 
be  done  in  a  place  where  the  love  of  drink  is  the  people's 
chief  passion.  The  Church  and  the  public-house  are  rivals 
for  the  favor  of  Shadbrook,  and  naturally  the  stronger  wins." 

"  And  the  stronger  is  ?  " — hinted  Douay. 

"  Can  you  ask?    The  public-house,  of  course!  " 

The  little  priest  was  silent,  and  took  one  or  two  turns  up 
and 'down  the  study,  with  his  hands  clasped  in  meditative 
fashion  behind  his  back.  And  presently  Everton  found  him- 
self telling  the  story  of  the  Kiernans,  though  he  carefully 
refrained  from  mentioning  the  share  his  wife  had  unin- 
tentionally taken  in  its  development.  Douay  listened  with 
keen  and  attentive  interest.  At  the  end  of  the  narration  he 
gave  an  eloquent  gesture  with  his  shoulders  and  hands. 


I4o  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  But  then  the  man  is  a  murderer!  "  he  exclaimed — "  he 
has  killed  his  wife!  Must  there  not  be  an  inquiry  and  a 
punishment?  " 

Everton's  eyes  grew  sadly  troubled. 

"  Well,  the  doctor  does  not  think  the  poor  woman  died  of 
the  physical  injuries  her  husband  inflicted  on  her," — he 
said — "  It  was  worry  that  did  the  mischief.  She  was  getting 
well — till — till  she  heard  about  the  gill  in  the  case " 

"  Ah,  the  girl!  "  and  Douay  nodded — >"  The  girl  to  whom 
the  husband  made  love!  It  was  a  pity  she  heard  of  that  at 
all !  Some  idle  gossiping  neighbor  told  her,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Everton  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  His  face  flushed 
and  he  turned  away. 

"It  was  quite  by  accident  she  heard  of  it," — he  said 
evasively,  "  All  the  village  knew — so  I  understand ; — it  seems 
that  I  was  the  only  one  kept  in  the  dark." 

Douay  looked  at  him  curiously,  with  a  slight  smile. 

"  Ah ! '  They  were  afraid  to  tell  you !  You  look  too  good 
to  hear  such  naughty  tales!  Now  there  is  the  advantage  of 
the  Catholique  confession !  In  my  Church  this  wicked,  pretty 
leetle  girl  would  have  told  me  all  her  sins — and  the  big 
drunkard  would  have  come  to  me  to  ask  forgiveness — and  I 
should  have  frightened  him ! — oh  yes,  indeed !  "  Then,  not- 
ing Everton's  troubled  countenance,  he  went  up  to  him  and 
patted  him  kindly  on  the  arm.  "  Do  not  worry  yourself, 
Mistaire  Everton!  This  thing  will  arrange  itself.  It  is 
unpleasant — it  is  a  matter  of  the  drink.  Always  the  drink! 
I  do  not  understand  this  England.  Drink  rules  the  people, 
and  the  makers  of  drink  sit  in  the  House  of  Parliament !  Yet 
so  much  talk  about  temperance!  And  Government  permits 
the  poisoning  of  all  the  liquor!  It  is  beyond  me  to  compre- 
hend. How  wise  your  Shak-es-peare  was!  How  wise  when 
he  wrote  that  if  Hamlet  should  be  sent  to  England,  his  mad- 
ness would  not  be  noticed  as  all  the  people  there  were  as  mad 
as  he !  So  true ! — true  to  this  day !  " 

Everton  smiled,  glad  of  the  turn  in  the  conversation,  for 
he  did  not  wish  to  say  much  about  Jacynth  Miller.  He  felt 
that  he  could  hardly  trust  himself  on  that  subject  without 
betraying  more  irritation  than  would  seem  necessary.  He 
entered  quickly  into  generalities, — pressed  Douay  to  stay  to 
luncheon — an  invitation  which  was  readily  accepted, — and 


HOLY     ORDERS  141 

set  about  making  his  guest  feel  thoroughly  at  home.  There 
was  indeed  something  novel  and  pleasant  to  him  in  the  society 
of  a  man  who,  though  his  theories  were  those  of  a  rival 
creed,  was  at  any  rate  of  a  higher  order  of  intellect  than 
any  of  the  provincial  nonentities  he  had  been  compelled  to 
meet  for  the  past  three  years  in  and  around  Shadbrook,  and 
he  determined  to  make  the  most  of  it.  A  good  long  talk 
with  a  well-educated  and  intelligent  individual  of  his  own 
sex  was  a  mental  stimulus,  and  one  that  he  was  not  often 
privileged  to  enjoy.  The  only  '  gentleman  '  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, so  far  as  birth  and  education  went,  was  the  patron 
of  the  living,  Mr.  Hazlitt;  the  'resident'  squire  who  was 
scarcely  ever  in  residence, — and  he,  though  good-natured 
and  kind-hearted,  was  profoundly  and  unutterably  dull,  such 
brains  as  he  had  being  concentrated  on  hunting,  which  he  pro- 
nounced '  huntin','  and  his  outlook  on  the  world  being  limited 
to  the  '  points '  of  a  horse.  Compared  to  him  Sebastien 
Douay  was  a  wit  and  philosopher  combined — and  that  he  was 
also  a  Roman  Catholic  priest,  bent  on  fulfilling  the  commands 
of  his  Church  by  making  as  many  converts  as  possible,  was, 
to  Everton,  quite  immaterial.  For,  if  there  was  one  sure 
foothold  on  which  he,  as  a  minister  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land stood  firmly,  it  was  the  severe  simplicity  of  his  form  of 
faith.  He  could  never  understand  any  ornate  or  supersti- 
tious ritual  as  being  possible  to  sane  and  thinking  men, — 
and  the  Apologia  of  Newman  for  his  retrogression  to  Rome, 
had  always  struck  him  as  one  of  the  most  lamentable  epi- 
sodes in  Church  history,  which  could  only  be  set  down  to  the 
working  of  an  over-excitable  imagination  and  a  want  of 
logical  balance  in  the  brain.  To  voluntarily  sacrifice  the 
free,  God-given  force  of  reason  for  mere  ecclesiastical  slav- 
ery must  ever  be  the  act  of  a  weak  mind. 

Therefore,  he  was  quite  at  his  ease  with  his  new  friend, 
who,  closely  observant  of  him  and  taking  pains  to  draw  him 
out,  soon  discovered  that  under  his  quiet,  self-contained 
manner,  which,  by  those  who  knew  him  not  was  considered 
'  soft '  when  it  was  merely  unassuming,  there  was  a  rare  and 
brilliant  nature,  quick  to  grasp  close  subtleties  of  thought 
and  translate  them  into  clear  evidence, — and  that  this  nature 
was  strengthened  by  a  singular  force  of  will,  all  the  more 
powerful  because  it  was  so  seldom  exercised.  Douay  was  not 


142  HOLY     ORDERS 

a  Jesuit  for  nothing.  He  too  was  a  clever  man,  and  had 
been  trained  to  recognize  cleverness  in  others,  which  is  one 
of  the  most  valuable  characteristics  of  diplomacy.  And  it 
was  after  a  discussion  on  the  laxity  of  the  age  in  religious 
matters,  that  he  suddenly  put  the  very  question  which  Ever- 
ton,  whenever  it  occurred  to  himself,  considered  the  prompt- 
ing of  a  demon: 

"  Are  you  going  to  stay  all  your  life  in  Shadbrook,  Mis- 
taire  Everton  ?  " 

The  color  rushed  to  Everton's  brows,  and  his  eyes  lighted 
up  with  a  smile. 

"Why  do  you  ask?" 

Douay  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  It  is  a  narrow  circle — and  you  should  have  wide  influ- 
ence!" 

"  If  one  cannot  fill  a  small  place  successfully — and  I  am 
sure  I  cannot, — what  should  one  do  with  a  large  ?  "  and 
Everton  looked  at  him  questioningly — "  You  yourself  are 
content  with  a  mere  handful  of  the  '  faithful ' !  " 

"  Ah ! — but  I  am  sure  of  change !  " — said  Douay — "  I 
may  be  the  cure  of  the  tin  chapelle  for  four — five  years — but 
scarcely  longer.  Rome  plays  a  big  game  of  chess  with  the 
world — and  she  is  always  moving  her  leetle  pawns.  When 
the  monastery  is  built " 

"  Oh,  there  is  to  be  a  monastery,  is  there?  " 

"  Mais,  oui !  Of  course !  What  would  you  ?  The  French 
fathers  are  turned  out  of  France — they  come  naturally  to 
England.  They  will  poss-eebly  buy  the  so  ugly  brewery  of 
Mistaire  Minchin  in  time,  when  the  brewing  of  the  beer 
makes  failure!"  He  laughed — then  went  on — "Yes — there 
will  be  a  monastery  on  the  Cotswolds — and  in  time — a  popu- 
lation Catholique.  I  begin  that.  When  I  have  done  my  leetle 
task,  I  go  elsewhere.  It  is  but  a  turn  of  the  wheel.  There 
were  monasteries  all  over  England  once — there  will  be  again. 
No  one  puts  any  stop  in  their  way — and  where  there  is  land 
to  be  sold — well ! — the  Church  has  money !  " 

Everton  was  silent  for  a  moment.    Then  he  said : 

"  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  is  a  good  thing  that  this  should 
happen.  Rome  will  gather  together  the  credulous,  the 
superstitious — and — pardon  my  frankness! — the  cowardly, 
into  her  fold, — men  and  women  who  are  afraid  of  them- 


HOLY     ORDERS  143 

selves  and  their  own  abominable  vices, — who  would  rather 
be  slaves  than  free — who  half  believe  in  Hell,  and  think  pay- 
ment to  the  Church  will  buy  their  escape  from  eternal 
torment — and  we  shall  see  them  as  they  are — we  shall  know 
them!" 

Douay  smiled,  and  raised  his  eyebrows  expressively. 

"You  are  bold,  mon  ami!  So  bold  that  I  like  you! — I 
almost  love  you !  For  you  are  true — true  to  your  own  con- 
viction!— and  you  are  not  afraid  of  offending  one  person  or 
many  persons — that  is  a  magnificent  courage  to  which  I 
bow  my  soul !  " 

Everton  flushed  warmly,  conscious  that  his  impulsive 
words  might  have  justly  given  his  guest  cause  for  annoy- 
ance. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  he  said,  frankly  and  earnestly — 
"  For  the  moment  I  forgot  myself.  Forgive  my  brusque 
speech! — it  ought  never  to  have  been  said  to  a  minister  of 
the  Church  of  Rome.  I  did  not  mean  to  be  discourteous,  I 
assure  you! — but  you  seem  so  broad-minded,  and  so  free 
from  the  trammels  of  superstition  yourself,  that  you  uncon- 
sciously led  me  to  express  thoughts,  which  in  your  presence 
were  better  left  unuttered." 

He  broke  off,  visibly  embarrassed. 

"  Aliens  done !  "  exclaimed  Douay,  good-naturedly — "  I 
see  that  not  at  all !  Every  man's  opinion  is  interesting  to  me, 
and  I  am  the  last  person  to  take  offense  at  hearing  it.  And 
as  for  broad  mind — ah  oui! — you  will  soon  know  that  is 
very  large  in  me!  I  take  within  my  brain  all  creeds — all 
struggles  for  the  good — all  sorrows — all  difficulties — and  I 
say,  alas! — poor  men  and  poor  women!  So  slow  to  learn 
— so  hard  to  live — so  quick  to  die!  The  great  God  cannot 
be  angry  long  with  these  leetle  sad  mortals!  It  is  all  so 
trifling!  See!  They  are  born  and  they  know  not  why — 
they  feel  afraid  and  yet  they  hope — they  do  the  wrong  thing 
because  they  are  not  taught  the  right  one — they  cry  a  little 
and  pray  a  little  like  poor  children  who  are  naughty — their 
good  Father  give  them  a  leetle  whipping  and  put  them  to 
bed  in  the  churchyard — it  is  finish! — good-night! — and  then 
they  wake  up  in  the  bright  morning  of  Heaven,  fresh  and 
happy  and  pardoned — is  it  not  so?  Your  Church  and  mine 
both  teach  that  pretty  lesson — and  we  shall  never  do  better, 


144  HOLY     ORDERS 

mon  ami! — with  all  the  education  and  all  the  science,  we 
shall  never  do  better !  " 

His  keen  blue-gray  eyes  twinkled  kindly,  and  there  was  a 
suspicion  of  moisture  in  them. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  everything,"  he  went  on — "  and  sorry 
for  everybody!  One  church  is  as  useful  as  another — and 
though  I  know  the  stupidites  of  mine  as  well  as  I  know  the 
stupidities  of  yours,  I  say  it  matters  not.  For  all  churches 
must  move  one  way, — the  way  that  shall  give  hope  to  the 
hopeless,  that  shall  comfort  the  good,  and  frighten  the  bad, 
and  that  shall  help  the  poor  weak  ones — for  the  strong  can 
stand  alone." 

"Can  any  one,  however  strong,  stand  alone?"  queried 
Everton. 

Douay  looked  full  at  him. 

"  You  can !    And  you  will !  " 

There  was  something  singularly  compelling  in  his  tone, 
and  Everton  was  thrilled  by  it  with  a  strange  sensation  akin 
to  fear.  To  '  stand  alone '  had  never  been  his  ambition.  He 
had  set  before  him  as  his  aim  and  end  the  quiet  life  of  a 
country  clergyman,  established  with  a  wife  and  family  in  a 
peaceful  village  where  no  disturbing  rumors  of  the  larger 
outer  world  should  ever  trouble  his  studious  and  contented 
calm, — far  removed  from  the  clamor  and  call  of  warring 
humanity — the  struggle  of  nations — the  rise  and  fall  of 
governments, — and  all  other  urgent  things  which  with  great 
pulsation  of  eager  breath  and  vital  stir  of  hurrying  blood 
are  the  actual  heart-beats  of  the  world.  He  had  attained 
what  his  dreams  had  pictured  as  the  most  beautiful  life 
for  any  man — the  life  of  quiet  contemplation  and  limited 
influence,  happily  associated  with  the  consolations  of  love 
and  domestic  tranquillity, — what  then  remained  for  him  but 
a  satisfaction  as  perfect  as  any  that  could  be  found  on  earth  ? 
What  did  he  need  that  he  was<  not  possessed  of?  Surely 
nothing! — yet — if  he  would  be  honest  with  himself  he  knew 
that  there  was  a  lurking  restlessness  in  his  soul  to  which  he 
could  give  no  name. 

"  You  will  not  always  be  here," — went  on  Douay,  nod- 
ding impressively  at  him — "  That  is  quite  imposs-eeble !  You 
will  have  what  some  of  the  so  many  religious  in  England  say 
is  a  '  call ' — you  will  hear  a  voice  cry  '  Go  forth ! '  and  you 
will  go.  I  am  much  older  than  you, — and  I  have  not  lived 


HOLY     ORDERS  145 

so  long  not  to  know  many  things.  I  have  seen  the  folly  of 
trying  to  do  good — but  you — you  have  not  learned  that 
lesson  yet — and  you  will  try! — you  will  half  kill  yourself 
in  the  effort  to  do  kind  actions,  and  they  will  all  be  mis- 
judged— they  will  come  back  as  curses  upon  you, — they 
always  do !  Study  the  life  of  Our  Lord  and  read  the  lesson ! 
Each  of  His  miracles  was  treated  the  same — '  He  hath  a 
devil ! ' — and  for  the  great  crime  of  loving  mankind,  He 
•was  crucified!  See  you!  It  is  the  same  always — it  will 
always  be  the  same!  But  you  will  not  quite  believe  this — 
and  you  will  try  to  imitate  Our  Lord.  If  you  try  too  far 
you  also  will  be  nailed  to  the  gibbet  and  put  in  the  sepulcher. 
Perhaps  you  will  rise  again — perhaps  not! — that  depends  on 
the  strength  of  the  soul  within  you !  " 

"Then,  you  think  there  is  no  such  thing  as  justice?" 
asked  Everton. 

"  For  the  good — none  at  all !  "  replied  Douay  emphatic- 
ally— "  None — not  one  leetle  bit !  Not  in  this  world !  No, 
— not  at  all — I  know  not  why!  But  for  the  bad  there  is 
much  enjoyment, — they  have  what  they  call  '  great  fun,'  and 
often  die  in  their  beds  quite  peacefully,  with  the  smiles  of 
angels!  And  if  they  have  much  money,  the  clergyman  say 
'  Ah,  how  good !  What  saintly  souls  are  here  gone  to 
heaven ! '  Of  course !  I  would  say  the  same  myself  if  a 
very  bad  person  left  me  a  hundred  thousand  pounds !  "  He 
laughed  pleasantly.  "  Yes — that  is  so !  The  bad  person 
does  very  well  as  a  rule.  It  is  natural  to  be  bad,  apparently 
— it  is  wwnatural  to  be  good !  Or  I  will  put  it  that  we  have 
made  social  and  moral  laws  into  which  the  natural  man  does 
not  fit.  When  the  unnatural  man  arranges  himself  to  obey 
those  laws,  the  natural  one  fights  against  him — and  so  it 
goes  on.  Always  trouble! — always  misunderstanding!  So 
it  has  been  from  the  beginning — so  it  will  ever  be!  " 

"  You  are  more  of  a  philosopher  than  a  priest," — said 
Everton,  smiling. 

"  Exactly ! — so  I  am !  I  might  have  been  another  Renan, 
if  I  had  not  seen  how  foolishly  Renan  himself  wasted  his 
life.  Think  of  it!  To  write  the  Vie  de  Jesus,  he  went  to 
the  Holy  Land — and  there  his  sister  Henriette,  the  most 
true  friend  he  ever  had,  died  of  fever.  Well! — what  use 
was  all  the  agony,  the  sickness,  the  weariness,  the  work? 
Does  the  great  world  in  all  its  sections  care  for  the  Vie  de 


146  HOLY     ORDERS 

Jesus?  Not  one  leetle  bit!  All  the  writers  may  write  as 
they  please,  but  the  Divine  Personality  remains  Divine — and 
why?  Because  it  is  a  simple,  tender,  loving  Personality, 
uniting  itself  to  the  poor  and  the  suffering, — there  are  no 
complex  side-issues  to  its  work — it  is  Love  only!  That  is 
why  it  will  remain  with  the  world,  when  Voltaire  and 
Renan  are  forgotten !  " 

They  were  seated  in  Everton's  study  during  this  conver- 
sation,— luncheon  was  over,  and  they  had  drawn  their  chairs 
up  to  the  fireside,  for  though  the  day  was  fine  and  bright,  a 
cold  March  wind  was  driving  its  steely  whips  through  the 
air,  and  the  blaze  of  sparkling  coal  was  cheery  and  full  of 
comfort.  Everton  was,  in  a  vague  sort  of  fashion,  surprised 
to  think  how  little  he  had  noted  the  absence  of  his  wife 
from  the  lunch  table.  The  meal  had  been  a  simple  one, 
but  perfectly  well  served — no  particular  confusion  had  oc- 
curred among  the  domestics  because  the  mistress  of  the  house 
was  away, — and  the  pleasure  he  had  derived  from  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger  who  could  talk  about  matters  in  which 
he  was  intellectually  interested,  entirely  softened,  if  it  did 
not  quite  obliterate,  the  previous  wretched  sense  of  utter 
solitude  and  desertion  which,  with  the  departure  of  Azalea 
and  '  Baby  Laurence,'  had  fallen  like  a  cloud  upon  him. 
And  he  was  sorrier  than  he  cared  to  express  when  Douay 
presently  rose  to  take  his  leave. 

"  Must  you  go  so  soon  ?  "  he  asked,  regretfully — "  I  have 
not  said  half  what  I  should  like  to  say — > — " 

"  No — that  is  true !  "  said  Douay,  pressing  his  hand  cor- 
dially— "  You  have  been  very  silent, — I  have  done  all  the 
talking,  and  you  have  listened.  That  is  your  way  just  now. 
You  are  a  dumb  evangelist !  But  some  day  you — you  also — 
will  speak !  " 

They  parted  on  the  mutual  understanding  that  they  meant 
to  see  a  good  deal  of  each  other  in  the  future.  Everton 
agreed  to  cycle  over  as  often  as  he  could  to  the  cottage 
near  the  '  tin  chapelle  '  of  which  Douay  was  now  the  '  cure  ' 
— and  Douay  in  his  turn  promised  to  call  at  the  Vicarage 
whenever  he  found  himself  in  Shadbrook. 

"  Though,  mind  you,  I  won't  have  you  making  '  perverts ' 
of  my  parishioners !  "  laughed  Everton. 

"  Not   even   to   save   them   from   the   drink  of   Mistaire 


HOLY     ORDERS  147 

Minchin?" — retorted  Douay — "Be  not  afraid,  mon  ami! 
I  never  try  to  convert  or  '  pervert '  anybody.  It  is  too 
much  trouble!  I  open  my  little  church  or  tin  chapelle, 
and  let  the  people  come,  or  stay  away  as  they  please.  But 
here  is  the  fault  of  what  we  call  our  Christianity.  If  one 
Church  cannot  make  a  bad  man  better,  it  is  preferred  that 
he  should  be  left  in  his  badness  than  that  any  other  Church 
should  make  him  good.  Ah,  bah !  " — and  he  smiled  genially 
as  Everton  uttered  a  few  quick  eager  words  of  protest — 
"  I  do  not  mind — why  should  I  ? — but  you  know  it  is  as  I 
say.  You  speak  as  your  training  makes  you  speak,  and  you 
are  right  to  do  as  you  are  told.  I  also — I  do  what  I  am 
told.  But  I  keep  my  own  opinion.  And  I  say  if  a  man 
is  born  more  savage  than  civilized — and  there  are  many 
such — it  is  better  to  soften  his  cruel  nature  by  a  superstition 
than  to  give  up  his  soul  altogether.  You  will  not  make 
him  understand  the  grand  scientific  cosmos — no!  You  will 
never  teach  him  the  mathematical  miracle  of  the  solar  sys- 
tem,— his  brain  will  be  too  shallow  to  accept  it.  But  he 
will  comprehend  the  devil — he  will  be  troubled! — especially 
in  drink — by  pictures  of  the  horns  and  hoofs  and  tail!  Yet 
the  horns  and  hoofs  and  tail  are  quite  common — we  see  them 
every  day  in  the  oxen, — and  as  a  part  of  the  devil  they  are 
only  the  relics  of  an  old  pagan  myth — the  myth  of  the  god 
Pan  and  his  leaping  satyrs — but  no  matter! — there  are  thou- 
sands of  excellent  persons  calling  themselves  educated  who 
never  heard  of  the  god  Pan  or  any  pagan  myth  at  all, — 
and  if  we  may  believe  the  so  wonderful  newspapers,  the 
leetle  children  in  Australia  are  growing  up  without  know- 
ing any  more  of  Christ  than  they  do  of  Pan!  It  is  a  won- 
derful age ! — so  clever  as  to  be  too  clever ! — and  Our  Lord's 
prophecies  are  being  so  quickly  fulfilled  that  His  unworthy 
priests  must  surely  tremble !  " 

His  voice  sank — and  a  sudden  sadness  darkened  his  fea- 
tures like  the  shadow  of  a  cloud.  Everton  was  silent, — 
and  in  a  certain  sense  was  astonished  at  the  emotion  evinced 
by  this  simple,  ordinary-looking  little  man,  to  whom,  at  a 
first  glance,  no  one  would  have  given  credit  for  possessing 
any  great  interest  in  things  beyond  the  merest  commonplace 
duties  of  his  calling.  Douay  seemed  to  read  his  thoughts, 
for,  laying  one  hand  upon  his  arm,  he  went  on — 


I48  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  If  I  were  a  gifted  man — a  man  with  an  eloquent  tongue, 
and,  above  all,  if  I  were  a  handsome  man — for  the  physique 
is  always  more  to  the  male  and  female  savages  than  the 
merale- — I  would  be  a  prophet  to  this  time  of  what  is 
coming.  Yes! — of  what  is  coming!  Of  the  terror — the 
doom  that  is  coming!  Not  because  God  is  angry — no! — 
but  because  Wrong  must  be  made  Right  by  the  changeless 
order  of  the  Eternal  mathematics,  which  God  cannot  alter 
unless  He  would  destroy  Himself!  There  is  no  such  thing 
as  Chaos, — there  never  was.  It  is  all  Law!  And  we  must 
obey — if  not — then  gare  a  nous!  Yes!"  and  he  smiled 
strangely — "  If  I  were  a  gifted  man — a  man  like  you! — I 
would  be  something  of  an  apostle !  " 

"  Like  me !  "  exclaimed  Everton — "  My  dear  sir,  you 
overrate  my  powers  altogether!  I  am  nothing! — the  most 
incompetent  of  preachers  and  teachers, — and  though  I  deeply 
feel  the  things  you  say,  I  cannot  express  them — — " 

:<  Not  in  Shadbrook !  "  said  Douay— "  No !  That  I  under- 
stand! To  Shadbrook  you  must  talk  as  to  a  leetle  child — 
but  there  is  a  world  outside  Shadbrook — and  to  that  you 
will  speak, — when  the  time  is  ready !  " 

He  shook  hands  again  and  went  on  his  way, — and  Ever- 
ton, left  alone,  busied  himself  among  his  books  for  the  rest 
of  the  afternoon.  Douay's  words  troubled  him,  and  made 
him  dwell  more  or  less  irritably  on  remote  possibilities  in 
the  future, — therefore  he  sought  to  cool  his  mind  by  plung- 
ing it,  as  it  were,  into  a  deep  well  of  study.  A  telegram 
from  Azalea  announced  her  safe  arrival  at  Weston-super- 
Mare,  and  her  delight  at  being  by  the  sea, — and,  satisfied 
that  she  was  evidently  perfectly  happy  without  him,  he  tried 
for  the  time  being,  to  imagine  himself  unmarried  and  free 
from  all  the  responsibility  of  having  other  lives  dependent 
on  his  own.  What  would  be  his  purpose  in  life  now,  under 
such  circumstances? 

The  answer  came  at  once.  To  resign  his  living  and  go  to 
London.  London,  the  mighty  fermenting  mass  of  good  and 
evil, — London  with  all  its  deep-centered  horror,  beauty  and 
vileness, — London,  the  Lost  Soul  of  a  vast  section  of  hu- 
manity— a  Soul  that  is  sinking  so  surely  and  swiftly  into 
choking  quicksands  of  vice  that  not  even  the  outstretched 
beams  of  the  Cross  seem  able  to  bear  it  up  from  destruc- 


HOLY     ORDERS  149 

tion.  Yet  what  should  he  do  in  London  ?  Preach  '  the 
wrath  to  come  '  ?  It  would  be  called  '  ranting  '  by  the  half- 
penny press;  and  the  public,  or  such  portion  of  it  as  swears 
by  its  lying  daily  newspapers,  would  be  induced  to  jest  at 
and  condemn  him.  Well,  what  then?  Did  that  matter,  he 
asked  himself?  Did  not  the  ancient  Jewish  precursors  of 
the  modern  press  cry  in  the  same  mocking  spirit:  "  If  Thou 
be  the  Son  of  God,  come  down  from  the  Cross!  "  And  "  He 
saved  others:  Himself  He  cannot  save!"  With  a  quick, 
impatient  sigh,  he  walked  up  and  down  his  room  like  a 
trapped  animal  in  a  cage,  not  in  any  way  realizing  that  his 
whole  nature  was  panting  for  freedom.  Even  if  he  had 
thought  it,  he  never  would  have  entirely  admitted  that  he 
longed  to  break  through  the  narrow  circle  wherein  he  was 
pent,  and  escape  from  the  small  and  mean  concerns  of  low 
rural  life — life  in  which  the  mating  of  man  and  woman 
reaches  no  higher  plane  than  that  of  moth  with  moth,  and 
yet  is  considered  the  chief  business  of  living — life,  out  of 
which  children  are  born  merely  to  drudge  and  die, — life 
which  is  made  up  of  such  weary  and  monotonous  nothings 
that  one  can  but  marvel  at  the  dogged  patience  and  stolid 
endurance  with  which  it  is  lived. 

Pausing  in  one  of  his  turns  to  and  fro,  he  stood  at  the 
window  and  stared  out  into  the  garden.  The  sun  was 
sinking  in  a  dull  crimson  glow  behind  a  clump  of  short  fir 
trees,  and  their  branches  looked  black  as  ink  stretched  stiffly 
out,  against  the  lurid  western  light.  Something  like  a  pale 
fiery  reflection  seemed  cast  up  from  the  ground  to  mingle 
with  the  stronger  glare  in  the  sky,  and  Everton  caught  him- 
self thinking,  he  knew  not  why,  of  the  first  murder  as 
chronicled  in  Genesis,  when  the  Lord  said : — "  The  voice 
of  thy  brother's  blood  crieth  unto  Me  from  the  ground !  " 
How  many  such  voices  of  blood  had  cried  to  the  Lord  since 
then!  Millions  upon  millions  of  them,  shrieking  through 
tortured  mouths  red  with  human  wrong! — red  as  the  ground 
there,  which  the  scarlet  sun  flamed  upon  silently  without 
any  pitying  touch  of  golden  tenderness — as  silently  as  the 
Lord  Himself  now  watched  all  the  accumulating  crime 
of  the  world!  Everton  shivered  with  a  sudden  sense  of 
cold,  and  turned  away  from  the  garden  view,  which  to 
him  had  become  unaccountably  gloomy.  At  that  instant 


150  HOLY     ORDERS 

there  was  a  knock  at  the  study  door  and  the  parlor-maid 
entered. 

"  If  you  please,  sir," — she  said,  somewhat  nervously — 
"  there's  some  one  wants  to  see  you — a  man  from  the 
village " 

He  looked  at  her,  and  noticed  that  she  seemed  a  trifle 
scared. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"  It's — it's  Dan  Kiernan,  sir." 

He  waited  a  moment,  considering.    Then  he  said  quietly. 

"  All  right !     Show  him  in." 

The  girl  lingered  hesitatingly — and  added  in  a  low  tone: 

"  I  think  he's  quite  sober,  sir." 

Everton  nodded. 

"  Good.     I'm  glad  of  that.     I'll  see  him  at  once." 

She  disappeared  then,  and  there  came  a  pause — a  pause  in 
which  Everton  tried  to  get  a  firm  hold  of  his  thoughts  and 
so  steady  them  that  he  should  betray  no  sign  of  the  hatred — 
yes,  hatred! — that  he  bore  to  the  man  who  was  not  only  a 
vile  accuser  of  the  innocent,  but  also — the  lover  of  Jacynth. 
Then  came  the  sound  of  heavy,  clumbering  feet  in  the  outer 
passage;  the  feet  of  the  rustic  boor  which  always  tread  with 
the  same  uncouth  awkwardness  whether  on  carpets  or  clods 
of  clay, — and  in  another  few  seconds  a  shadow  loomed  on 
the  threshold  of  his  quiet  room — a  huge,  brawny,  bulky 
figure  that  seemed  to  suddenly  create  an  obstruction  in  space 
and  a  darkness  in  light.  Everton  looked  steadily  at  this 
slouching  form  as  it  appeared,  mentally  measuring  it  in  its 
gross  material  mass  of  man, — he  watched  it  enter  his  study 
and  shut  the  door, — then  he  stood  up  and  faced  it.  But  he 
said  nothing.  And  for  one  long  minute  there  was  a  tense 
stillness,  in  which  only  the  slow  ticking  of  the  clock  on  the 
mantelpiece  could  be  heard.  Both  men  met  each  other's 
eyes  with  equal  recognition  and  antipathy, — both  men  knew, 
albeit  obscurely,  that  the  same  passions  animated  them,  though 
the  one  was  an  educated  minister  of  Christ's  Gospel,  and 
the  other  an  ignorant,  drink-sodden  ruffian, — and  both  were 
conscious  of  a  certain  fascination  in  each  other's  personality. 
So  they  stood,  each  waiting  for  the  other  to  speak, — but  both 
with  the  same  name  ready  to  spring  to  their  lips  at  the  first 
provocation — the  name  of  Jacynth. 


CHAPTER   IX 

l/'IERNAN  was  the  first  to  break  silence. 

A^       "  I  want  a  wurrd  with  ye,  Mister  Parson," — he  said, 

gruffly. 

"  Certainly !  " — and  the  Vicar,  moving  to  his  customary 
desk  chair,  seated  himself — "  I  know  of  your  great 
trouble " 

"  Oh,  ye  knows  of  it,  does  ye  ?  "  and  Dan  glowered  sul- 
lenly at  him  from  under  his  heavy  black  brows — "  Well, 
that'll  save  some  talkin'.  Anyway  ye  doan't  need  tellin'  that 
my  wife's  dead." 

"  I  heard,  of  her  death  last  night," — said  Eveiton,  as  gently 
as  he  could — "  And  I  am  very,  very  sorry." 

"  Very  very  sorry  won't  mend  it,"  retorted  Kiernan — 
"  She's  gone,  and  very  very  sorry  woan't  bring  her  back. 
She  was  a  good  wench  to  me,  Jennie  was, — an'  ef  it  'adn't 
bin  for  you,  Mister  Parson,  meddlin'  an'  muddlin'  round 
with  what  worn't  yer  bizness,  an'  interferin'  with  a  poor 
man's  'ome,  she'd  a'  bin  alive  now !  " 

The  Vicar  sat  rigidly  in  his  chair,  quite  silent. 

"  Ef  it  'adn't  bin  for  you,"  went  on  Dan,  in  a  louder 
tone — "  you  an'  yer  mincin'  smirkin'  dolly  wife,  Jennie  would 
a'  bin  livin'  yet,  strong  an'  'arty.  She  never  minded  a  bit 
o'  my  fist,  didn't  Jennie — she  knew  'twas  all  right  an* 
what  she'd  got  to  'xpect  from  a  man  with  a  drop  o'  drink 
in  'im,  an'  she  didn't  go  fur  to  blame  me  neither.  She 
worn't  no  darnation  preacher!  She  was  that  fond  o'  me 
that  she  took  the  hull  o'  me  for  better  an'  worser,  drink  or 
no  drink,  as  the  weddin'  words  bound  'er  to  do,  and  ef  one 
parson  marries  a  man  to  a  woman  with  them  words,  I'd 
like  to  know  'ow  any  other  parson  dare  come  interferin* 
between  'em !  'Ow  dare  he  ?  Come !  Tell  me  that !  " 

Everton  lifted  his  calm  clear  eyes  and  looked  full  at  him. 

"If  you  mean  tha.t  for  me,"  he  said  slowly — " I  never 
came  between  you.  I  only  tried  to  save  your  wife  from  you 
when  you  were  too  drunk  to  know  what  you  were  doing — 


152  HOLY     ORDERS 

and  when  you  might  unintentionally  have  murdered  her.  I 
also  tried  to  save  you  from  yourself !  " 

Kiernan  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"  Fine  talk  that  is !  "  he  exclaimed— /'  Reg'lar  pulpit 
jabber!  Save  me  from  myself!  What  d'ye  mean?  I  am 
myself,  an'  there  ain't  no  me  outside  myself.  Any  fool 
knows  that !  An'  it's  me  myself  that  sez  Jennie  would  a'  bin 
all  right  ef  she'd  a'  bin  left  alone — she  was  a-gettin'  on  fine 
an'  comin'  round  as  well  as  could  be,  till  your  wife,  Mister 
Parson," — here  he  thrust  his  dark  face  forward  with  a 
threatening  movement — "  your  lady  wife  with  'er  airs  an' 
'er  graces  an'  'er  mean  gossipin'  tongue  came  in  tellin'  tales, 
an' killed  'er!  " 

Everton  rose  suddenly  and  walked  straight  up  to  him. 

"  Dare  to  speak  of  my  wife  again  and  I'll  put  you  out  of 
the  house !  "  he  said,  in  low,  perfectly  even  tones — •"  I  don't 
want  any  quarrel  with  you,  Dan  Kiernan,  but  if  you  force 
one  upon  me  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you !  " 

Kiernan  stared, — for  the  moment  completely  taken  aback 
by  the  Vicar's  rapid  movement  and  resolute  expression.  Then 
he  gave  vent  to  a  hoarse  chuckle. 

"So  you've  got  a  bit  o'  pluck  about  ye,  'ave  ye!"  he 
sneered.  "  Can't  'ave  your  wife  touched !  'Ow  about  my 
wife  then?  My  wife  as  is  lyin'  dead?  S'pose  your  wife 
was  a-lyin'  wheer  mine  is?  S'pose  you  was  a-goin'  to  shovel 
'er  into  the  ground  to-morrer?  'Ow  would  you  like  it? 
One  man's  no  worse  an'  no  better  than  t'other,  if  we  goes 
by  Church  preachin',  an'  poor's  as  good  as  rich — so  I  doan't 
s'pose  your  feelin's  'as  any  speshul  right  to  be  took  care  of 
more'n  mine !  An'  ef  ye  knew  that  your  wife  'ad  bin  killed 
by  a  lot  of  cursed  gabble  an'  mischief-makin',  m'appen  ye'd 
feel  like  killin'  the  man  or  the  woman  what  done  ye  the 
bad  turn !  " 

He  chuckled  savagely  again  as  Everton  moved  away  from 
him  with  an  involuntary  gesture  of  repulsion,  and  added: — 

"  You  knows  that's  right  enough !  Bein'  parson  doan't 
save  ye  from  bein'  a  man.  You  preaches  justice  an'  ekal 
rights  for  rich  an*  poor,  but  when  it  comes  to  tryin'  the 
game  on  square,  you  doan't  want  your  own  wife  blamed 
though  mine's  lyin'  dead!  An'  wheer's  the  right  an'  justice 
o'  that?"  He  threw  up  one  hand  with  a  defiant  snap  of 


HOLY     ORDERS  153 

his  fingers,  adding — "  An'  all  the  bloomin'  fuss  about  a  gel 
too !  By  the  Lord ! — as  ef  gels  worn't  as  cheap  an'  common 
as  blackberries  on  a  hedge,  waitin'  for  men  to  gather  'em, 
an'  turnin'  sour  too  ef  they  ain't  gathered  when  ripe !  What's 
to  do  with  'em,  I  say?  Let  'em  rot?  Or  take  'em  when 
they're  offered  free?" 

Everton  stood  still  and  listened.  There  was  a  curious 
tension  in  the  air  like  the  oppressive  sense  of  heat  before 
thunder,  and  he  waited  with  an  irritated  sense  of  impatience 
for  the  lightning-flash  of  a  woman's  name. 

"  Some  gels  likes  men,  an'  some  doan't," — went  on  Dan 
— "  Them  as  doan't  keeps  off  clear — them  as  does  comes  to 
the  first  whistle.  An'  there's  gels  as  turns  yer  'ed  silly  more'n 
the  drink,  wi'  their  looks  an'  their  smiles  an'  their  '  dears ' 
an'  their  '  darlins','  an'  I  doan't  mind  tellin'  you  an'  every- 
body else  in  the  hull  village  that  I  went  fair  'mazed  an* 
crazy  over  Jacynth  Miller." 

Here  he  paused  and  seemed  to  gather  himself  into  a  black 
brooding  cloud  of  anger.  Everton  remained  standing  in  the 
same  position  and  place,  coldly  attentive. 

"  What  the  h — 11  was  it  to  you," — burst  forth  Kiernan 
again,  "  whether  I  'ad  the  gel  or  she  'ad  me  ?  What  call 
'ad  your  missus  to  go  muddlin'  an*  meddlin'  an'  tellin'  tales 
to  mine?  I've  as  good  a  right  to  'ave  a  gel  as  any  man,  an' 
I  ain't  bound  to  ask  leave  of  the  parson  neither! " 

Everton's  lips  were  dry,  and  he  found  it  difficult  to 
speak. 

A  feverish  tremor  ran  through  his  veins, — savage  instincts 
such  as  he  hardly  knew  he  possessed,  stirred  within  him, 
urging  him  to  throw  himself  upon  this  boorish  brute  and 
shake  him  into  utter  speechlessness, — and  it  was  only  by  the 
strongest  possible  effort  that  he  maintained  his  self-control. 

"  You  are  certainly  not  bound  to  ask  a  parson  or  any  one 
else  for  leave  to  do  anything," — he  said,  at  last,  slowly,  in 
accents  of  irrepressible  scorn — •"  You  are  a  free  man  in  a 
free  country,  as  men  and  countries  go.  You  can  commit  as 
many  sins  as  you  like, — you  can  disgrace  yourself  and  others 
— you  can  indulge  in  every  sort  of  vice  and  abomination — 
you  can  drink  yourself  to  death,  if  you  decide  to  do  so — 
and  no  other  man  can  hinder  you.  But  you  are  answerable 
to  God  for  your  conduct !  " 


154  HOLY     ORDERS 

Kiernan  laughed  insolently. 

"God!  Oh,  that's  all  right!  I  doan't  mind  God!  He 
doan't  interfere.  He's  made  men  to  mate  wi'  wimmin,  an' 
wimmin  to  mate  wi'  men,  an'  'ow  they  do't  doan't  matter 
to  'im  as  long  as  'tis  done!  God  didn't  look  out  o'  the  sky 
an'  say  '  Jacynth,  doan't  ye  go  wi'  Dan! ' — or  '  Dan,  doan't 
ye  go  wi'  Jacynth ! '  not  'e !  There  ain't  no  nonsense  o' 
that  kind  in  all  creation  'cept  wi'  parsons  an'  district  vis- 
itors! Mind  though,  I  woan't  say  but  that  ef  Jacynth  'ad 
a'  bin  a  straight  gel  I'd  a'  left  'er  alone — but  she  was  born 
a  reg'lar  bad  'un,  as  sweet  as  'ony  an'  as  coaxin'  as  a  kitten, 
an'  she'd  a'  took  any  man  she  wanted.  It  'appened  to  be 
me — but  it  might  a'  just  as  easy  'appened  to  be  you!  " 

The  Vicar  drew  his  breath  quickly  and  his  eyes  grew 
dark  with  repressed  pain.  But  he  said  not  a  word  in 
reply. 

"  It  might  just  as  easy  'appened  to  be  you," — repeated 
Dan,  taking  a  sort  of  stupid  satisfaction  in  the  assertion — 
"  One  was  as  good  as  t'other  to  Jacynth.  She'd  a'  took  any 
one  she  'ad  a  mind  to.  She  fancied  me — an'  I  was  the  fust 
one — yes! — I  was  fust!  "  and  he  gave  vent  to  a  low  snigger 
— "  She  can't  get  over  that  whatever  she  doos  an'  wheerever 
she  goes.  An'  the  actor  fellow  she's  gone  with  now  is  the 
second, — much  good  may  it  do  'im!  But  ef  she'd  stayed  on 
in  the  village,  she'd  a'  got  every  man  she  wanted,  an'  she'd 
a'  'ad  you  as  sure  as  you're  alive!  She  said  as  much  to  me 
once  when  she  wanted  to  rile  me.  '  I'll  make  love  to  the 
parson  some  day,  Dan,  see  ef  I  doan't!'  sez  she,  an'  she 
pulls  the  pins  out  of  'er  'air  an'  lets  it  all  fall  about  'er, 
enuff  to  drive  a  chap  silly — •'  I'll  look  at  'im  so! '  an'  she 
makes  a  cherry  of  'er  mouth,  an'  twinkles  'er  big  eyes — '  An' 
I'll  ketch  'old  of  'im  so,' — an'  she  puts  'er  arms  round  my 
neck — '  An'  when  'e  goes  to  read  the  prayers  in  church,  'e'll 
see  nothin'  but  my  face  at  the  altar! '  That's  what  she  said, 
Gospel  true !  An'  she'd  a'  kep'  'er  wurrd !  " 

Still  Everton  was  silent.  He  was  very  pale,  but  he  stood 
motionless.  He  had  nothing  to  say.  No  argument  was 
possible  with  such  a  man  as  this. 

"  No  one  carn't  swear  as  she  worn't  the  finest  gel  any- 
wheers  on  the  Cotswolds,"  went  on  Kiernan — "  As  pretty 
as  the  devil  could  make  'er,  an'  as  skeery  an'  gay  as  a  young 


HOLY     ORDERS  155 

colt  thoroughbred.  An'  ef  it's  agin  God's  will  that  a  gel 
should  take  to  a  man  an'  a  man  to  a  gel,  why  doan't  'e  show 
it?  Why  doan't  'e  talk  to  the  birds  an'  the  beasts  an'  tell 
'em  they're  all  a-goin'  to  'ell?  They  doos  what  we're  told 
not  to  do, — an'  it's  all  rot  an'  mawky  stuff  so  far  as  a 
man's  consarned,  for  a  man's  a  man  wi'  the  ways  of  a  man, 
an'  ef  you  worn't  a  parson,  you'd  be  'onest  an'  say  the  same. 
I  ain't  done  no  more  'arm  than  a  burrd  what  picks  out  a 
new  mate  every  spring." 

He  paused,  waiting  for  Everton  to  speak,  while  Everton 
himself  vaguely  wondered  what  he  was  expected  to  say.  At 
last  he  forced  himself  into  utterance. 

"  When  you  married  your  wife,"  he  said,  coldly — "  You 
swore  before  God  to  be  faithful  to  her,  did  you  not  ?  " 

Dan's  eyes  shifted  to  and  fro  uneasily. 

"  Mebbe  I  did," — he  answered,  sullenly — "  But  there 
ain't  no  man  in  the  hull  wurrld  as  sticks  to  one  woman." 
Then,  meeting  the  Vicar's  straight,  accusing  glance,  he  burst 
out  savagely :  "  There  ain't,  I  say !  Ay,  ye  may  look  an* 
look  at  me  till  yer  eyes  falls  out  o'  yer  'ed  an'  it  woan't 
make  no  difference  to  my  way  o'  thinkin'!  There's  not  a 
man  alive,  low  nor  'igh,  as  ever  kep'  to  'is  wife  all  'is  days, 
year  in  an'  year  out.  I  doan't  care  who  'e  be, — mebbe  the 
Squire  or  mebbe  Mister  Minchin, — they'se  all  made  o'  the 
same  stuff,  an'  Jennie  she  knew  that  well,  bein'  a  sensible 
wench  all  along.  Jennie  knew  it — an'  so  does  all  wimmin 
know't,  onny  they  jest  pretends  they  doan't  unnerstand  it. 
But  they  do !  Ah,  an'  parsons  ain't  no  exception — they  goes 
for  the  wimmin  more'n  most,  an'  many  on  'em  'ud  risk  'ell 
for  a  gel  like  Jacynth, — that  they  'ud,  an'  small  blame  to 
'em!  I'd  take  the  chance  of  an  everlastin'  burnin'  in  the 
next  wurrld  cheerful  an'  willin'  so.  long  as  I  could  'ave 
Jacynth  in  this  one!  An'  now,  thanks  to  your  missus  inter- 
ferin'  where  she  'adn't  no  business,  I've  lost  Jacynth  as  well 
as  Jennie.  O'  course  I  know'd  that  there  actor  fellow  as 
was  a-tourin'  round  Cheltenham  way  'ad  got  'is  eye  on  'er — 
a  smooth,  sleek-faced  devil  old  enough  to  be  'er  father,  wi' 
gray  'airs  an'  a  made-up  skin — but  'e  pertended  to  be  a 
gentleman  'e  did,  an'  that's  what  Jacynth  wanted.  She  allus 
told  me  she'd  be  a  lady  somehows.  Sez  she:  '  I'll  be  a  lady 
in  a  theater  like  what  we  reads  about  in  the  'apenny  Mail, 


156  HOLY     ORDERS 

as  spends  'caps  o'  money  she  ain't  got,  an'  'as  thousands  o' 
pounds  worth  o'  debts  for  the  clothes  she  wears,  an'  marries 
a  rich  'usband  an'  lives  with  ever  so  many  lovers,  an'  is  took 
about  by  duchesses,  an'  goes  on  board  the  King's  yacht. 
That's  bein'  a  real  lady,  that  is ! '  So  she  sez,  an'  that's 
what  she's  after,  an'  by  G — d,  she'll  'ave  'er  way!  Look 
'ere,  Mister  Parson,  you  talks  o'  the  drink,  an'  the  'arm  the 
drink  doos  to  the  workin'-man,  but  ef  you  wants  to  put  a 
stop  to  real  mischief,  you'll  'ave  to  stop  the  'apenny  papers ! — 
that's  your  ticket !  Stop  them  comin'  into  the  village  wi'  the 
marnin's  London  tale  o'  what  the  dirty  sassiety  folks  is 
a-doin'  wi'  theirselves — for  those  tales  drives  more  country 
gels  to  the  bad  than  any  lot  o'  men  makin'  love  to  'em.  The 
'apenny  paper  doos  more  'arm  than  all  the  public  put 
together !  " 

Everton  heard  this  harangue  with  attentive  patience.  The 
coarse  eloquence  of  the  man  moved  him  to  a  certain  sur- 
prise,— he  had  not  thought  Kiernan  capable,  even  when 
sober,  of  expressing  himself  so  forcibly.  For  there  was  truth 
in  what  he  said, — truth  that  could  not  be  denied.  And  his 
thoughts  wandered  to  the  '  actor  fellow '  who  had  taken 
Jacynth, — he  caught  himself  wondering  whether  he  could  be 
traced,  and  the  girl  rescued; — rescued?  But  to  what  pur- 
pose would  the  rescue  serve?  The  world  has  grown  apa- 
thetic and  indifferent  to  the  ruin  of  women !  He  sighed  im- 
patiently, and  seeing  that  Kiernan  was  watching  him,  he  said 
in  accents  of  studied  gentleness: — 

"  You  may  be  right.  No  doubt  you  are.  But  the  exist- 
ence of  the  cheap  newspaper  evil  does  not  lessen  the  drink 
evil.  Drink  is  your  curse,  Kiernan — fight  against  it  if  you 
are  a  man !  Drink  has  brought  you  into  your  present  trouble, 
and  drink  will  bring  you  to  a  wretched  end  if  you  don't  pull 
up  in  time.  I'm  not  '  preaching '  or  giving  you  what  you  call 
'  pulpit  jabber  ' — I'm  speaking  to  you  as  " — he  paused, — he 
could  not  say  '  as  a  friend  ' — and  he  finished  the  sentence 
slowly — "  as  your  Vicar." 

Dan  gave  a  contemptuous  gesture. 

"Oh,  are  ye?  Well,  ye  woan't  be  my  Vicar  arter  to- 
morrer!"  he  said — "I  ain't  a-goin'  to  stop  in  Shadbrook 
now  Jacynth's  gone  an'  my  wife's  dead.  There  ain't  nothin' 
to  stop  for.  I've  got  a  better  job,  an'  I'm  off." 


f~  HOLY   ORDERS  157 

Everton  was  quite  Still  for  a  moment.  His  heart  was 
full  of  a  smoldering  anger,  and  he  could  feel  it  beating 
quickly. 

"  You  follow  Jacynth,  I  suppose?  "  he  said,  meaningly. 

A  tigerish  gleam  leaped  into  Kiernan's  eyes. 

"  No,  I  doan't ! "  he  answered  sharply,  and  with  fierce 
emphasis — "  So  ye  supposes  wrong!  As  long  as  she  was 
mine  I'd  a'  gone  with  'er  to  the  devil! — but  I  doan't  take 
another  man's  cast-off !  " 

A  silence  followed,  in  which  the  measured  ticking  of  the 
clock  became  painfully  obtrusive.  The  sun  had  sunk,  and 
the  room  was  filled  with  dense  shadows.  In  the  wavering 
uncertainty  of  the  semi-twilight,  Kiernan's  bulky  form 
loomed  larger,  darker,  and  more  aggressive,  and  Everton, 
with  a  sense  of  vague  disquietude  upon  him,  moved  to  his 
desk  and  lit  the  two  candles  which  always  stood  there,  in 
order  to  relieve  the  obscurity.  Then  he  turned  again  towards 
his  undesired  visitor. 

"  Have  you  said  all  you  wish  to  say  to  me?  "  he  asked. 

Dan  gave  him  an  ugly  look. 

"Not  quite  all,  Mister  Parson!"  he  said — "Not  quite 
all!  There's  a  goodish  bit  yet  between  you  an'  me;  'ow- 
somever,  I'll  not  'ave  it  out  wi'  ye  while  Jennie's  above 
ground.  But  I'll  jest  tell  ye  this  much,  that  ye'll  not  see 
me  at  the  buryin'  to-morrer.  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  stand  by  an' 
see  Jennie  put  into  th'  yerth — not  I,  by  a  long  ways!  An' 
'ave  all  the  neighbors  a-starin'  an'  a-whisperin'  round,  an* 
a-sayin'  as  'ow  I'd  broken  Jennie's  'art  by  reason  o'  Jacynth; 
when  ef  it  'adn't  been  for  the  meddlin'  o'  your  missus  comin* 
into  my  'ome  wheer  she  'adn't  no  business  to  be,  Jennie  'ud 
never  a'  bin  a  bit  the  wiser  nor  the  worsen  So  you'll  do 
the  buryin'  this  time  without  the  chief  mourner,  Mister! — 
for  I'll  say  good-by  to  Jennie  lyin'  in  'er  coffin  to-night 
afore  they  screws  'er  down, — an'  as  for  mournin',  I've  got 
a  mournin'  way  o'  my  own, — an'  that  way  your  wife  'ull 
find  out  sooner  or  later, — by  G — d,  she  shall !  " 

Everton  glanced  him  up  and  down  in  utter  scorn. 

"  You  threaten  a  woman !  "  he  said,  contemptuously — > 
"  A  bully  is  always  a  coward !  " 

Kiernan  made  one  heavy  stride  towards  him. 

"  Come,  I  woan't  take  that !  "  he  exclaimed,  fiercely — "  I 


158  HOLY     ORDERS 

woan't  take  it,  I  say!  No  damn  parson  shall  call  me  a 
coward !  " 

"  You  are  a  coward !  "  and  Everton  stood  his  ground 
firmly,  looking  unflinchingly  into  the  savage  face  that  so 
closely  confronted  him, — "  You  talk  like  a  coward,  and  you 
behave  like  one !  If  you  have  a  grudge  against  me  and  want 
to  avenge  yourself,  why  don't  you  do  it  here  and  now?  I 
am  alone, — why  don't  you  knock  me  down  if  that  will  be  a 
relief  to  your  feelings?  I  shall  neither  resist  nor  retaliate. 
You  know  I  can't  raise  a  hand  against  you  in  self-defense, 
not  because  I  fear  you,  but  simply  because  I  am  a  minister 
of  Christ.  Take  your  chance,  therefore,  and  do  what  you 
like  to  me, — but  for  the  sake  of  common  manliness,  if  not 
for  very  shame,  leave  women  out  of  the  quarrel !  " 

For  a  moment  Kiernan  stood  confounded,  staring  stupidly 
at  the  pale,  delicately  built  man  who,  with  a  perfectly  grave 
and  quiet  demeanor,  thus  offered  himself  for  attack.  Then 
he  fell  back  a  few  steps,  and  a  slow,  cunning  smile  darkened 
rather  than  brightened  his  heavy  features. 

"  Leave  wimmin  out !  "  he  muttered — "  No — that  woan't 
do ! — that  woan't  do !  Wimmin  was  the  beginnin'  and  wim- 
min '11  be  the  end !  You're  a  peart  man,  Mister  Parson,  an' 
I  ain't  a-goin'  to  touch  ye!  'Tain't  my  game  to  get  into 
trouble  on  your  score,  though  I  make  no  doubt  ye'd  like  me 
to  do  it!  But  I'm  a-clearin'  out  o'  this  part  o'  the  parish 
an'  I'll  go  quiet.  I  doan't  intend  to  lose  -the  place  I've  just 
took  at  Minchin's  all  for  the  pleasure  o'  givin'  ye  a  knock- 
me-down, — thank'ee  kindly!  I'll  settle  up  some  other 
time!" 

Everton  still  kept  his  eyes  upon  him. 

"Are  you  going  to  work  at  Minchin's  Brewery?"  he 
asked. 

Dan  nodded  his  bullet  head  a  great  many  times. 

"  I  am,"  he  answered,  with  a  kind  of  surly  triumph — 
"  I've  got  a  good  job  there  an'  good  pay." 

"  God  help  you,  man !  "  said  Everton,  abruptly — "  You 
go  from  bad  to  worse !  " 

He  turned  away  and  sat  down  at  his  desk.  The  clock 
ticked  off  two  or  three  minutes  with  uninterrupted  distinct- 
ness. At  last,  oppressed  by  the  stillness  and  the  weight  of 
Kiernan 's  hateful  presence  in  his  room,  he  said: 


HOLY     ORDERS  159 

"  I  think  your  business  with  me  is  finished  ?  I  understand 
you  will  not  be  at  your  wife's  funeral  to-morrow  and  that 
you  are  leaving  Shadbrook.  That's  what  you  wished  me  to 
know,  isn't  it  ?  " 

His  curt  matter-of-fact  tone  seemed  to  bewilder  Kiernan 
for  a  second.  He  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  and  rubbed  his 
thick  stubbly  hair  in  a  meditative  way. 

"That's  it," — he  replied  slowly — "That's  it,  Mister 
Parson, — for  the  present.  But  doan't  ye  leave  out  the  best 
part  o'  my  bizness  with  ye — an'  that's  what  I  said  about 
your  missus,  an'  it's  what  I  stick  to.  My  Jennie's  death  lies 
at  'er  door — an'  for  that  matter  Jacynth's  goin'  off  sudden- 
like  lies  at  'er  door  too — and  I'll — I'll  " — here  he  raised  a 
clenched  fist  in  air — "  I'll  have  it  even  with  'er  yet!  She's 
runned  away — I  knows  she's  runned  away  this  marnin* 
afraid  to  'ear  of  all  the  trouble  she's  brought  upon  a  poor 
man's  'ome — but  she'll  have  to  come  back — an'  I  can  wait 
patient — I  can  bide  my  time !  " 

Everton  made  no  answer.  He  was  inwardly  quivering 
with  suppressed  rage — 'but  he  knew  it  would  be  worse  than 
useless  to  continue  arguing  with  a  man  for  whom  there  was 
no  God  and  no  conscience.  He  drew  some  papers  towards 
him  and  feigned  to  be  busy  examining  them. 

"  D'ye  'ear  me  ?  "  said  Kiernan,  in  a  louder  tone — "  I 
can  bide  my  time !  " 

Everton  turned  a  calm  pale  face  upon  him. 

"  I  hear  you !  "  he  rejoined,  quietly — "  And  I  say — God 
forgive  you !  " 

His  eyes  shone  steadfastly  and  clear,  despite  their  strained 
look  of  suffering; — they  were  eyes  that  expressed  a  soul 
braced  to  the  performance  of  duty,  no  matter  how  difficult 
or  galling  such  duty  might  be.  Never  was  a  braver  '  God 
forgive  you ! '  uttered  than  by  the  lips  of  this  country  cleric, 
whose  passions  as  a  mere  man  were  all  on  fire, — .whose  lithe 
hands  longed  to  be  at  the  throat  of  the  sodden  brute  whose 
threats  were  so  vague  and  yet  so  suggestive  of  uncompro- 
mising cruelty, — and  who  would  have  given  every  penny 
he  possessed  to  be  permitted  to  kick  the  cowardly  accuser 
of  his  wife  out  of  the  house.  No  early  Christian  martyr 
saying  '  God  forgive  you ! '  to  his  Roman  torturers  merited 
more  praise  for  self-restraint  and  heavenly  patience  than 


160  HOLY     ORDERS 

Everton  at  that  moment,  for  he  showed  no  sign  of  what  was 
passing  in  his  mind,  and  so  immovably  tranquil  did  he  seem, 
that  Kiernan,  dully  staring  at  him,  began  to  be  angrily  con- 
scious of  his  own  inferiority  as  boor  to  gentleman.  He  gave 
a  coarse  laugh. 

"  That's  all  ye  sez,  is  it — '  God  forgive  ye ! '"  he  sneered. 
"  That's  all  ye've  got  to  say  ?  " 

Everton  looked  straightly  at  him. 

"That's  all!"  he  said. 

There  was  a  pause, — and  for  one  moment  the  two  men 
gazed  full  at  one  another  as  though  each  sought  to  drag 
forth  some  prisoned  thought  in  both  their  souls.  Then  Dan 
Kiernan  opened  the  study  door  roughly,  went  out,  and 
banged  it  after  him.  He  was  gone.  With  a  deep  sigh  of 
relief  Everton  sprang  up  and  threw  back  the  lattice  win- 
dows, admitting  a  rush  of  fresh,  cold  air. 

"  I  don't  think  I  could  have  stood  it  a  moment  longer ! " 
he  said  half-aloud — "  Pah !  The  room  reeks  of  the  pot- 
house! Good  God!  Is  the  soul  of  a  man  like  Kiernan 
precious  to  the  Infinite  and  Divine  Powers?  Does  it  deserve 
to  be?  Can  it  be  honestly  considered  as  more  valuable  than 
the  soul  of  a  beast  of  the  field  which  has  the  virtues  of 
temperance  and  humility?  And  if  it  is  so  considered,  who 
is  to  save  it?  What  force  on  earth  or  in  heaven  could  stop 
this  churl  from  drinking  himself  into  madness, — save  death? 
None — surely  none!  It  is  his  own  choice — and  no  one  can 
hinder  him,  least  of  all  the  '  parson  '  whom  he  despises,  and 
whom  others  like  him  equally  despise,  because  religion  is 
brought  into  contempt  by  the  very  laws  of  the  land.  Such 
laws!  They  would  punish  a  newspaper  for  printing  insults 
against  the  King — but  they  leave  it  unscathed  for  publishing 
the  vilest  blasphemy  against  Christ !  We,  the  clergy,  preach, 
— and  though  there  are  bad  amongst  us,  the  good  predomi- 
nate— the  good  who  faithfully  try  to  do  their  duty — but 
what  is  spoken  from  the  pulpit  is  contradicted  by  the  press, — 
the  whole  country  swarms  with  pernicious  and  filthy  litera- 
ture which  so-called  '  reviewers '  praise — and  the  ministers 
of  Christ's  Gospel  appeal  in  vain  against  the  wickedness  and 
corruption  in  high  places,  because  these  are  grown  so  strong 
and  are  so  well-established  by  actual  Law  that  it  will  need 


HOLY     ORDERS  161 

a  second  coming  of  Christ  to  cleanse  the  foulness  of  the 
social  hive.  The  second  coming  of  Christ !  When  will  that 
be !  God  knows  I  would  it  were  soon !  " 

He  paced  up  and  down  his  room,  and  his  glance  presently, 
fell  on  a  pretty  photograph  of  his  wife  that  stood  on  a  small 
table  near  his  desk.  The  sweet  young  face  smiled  at  him, 
and  he  paused  in  front  of  it,  looking  at  it  long  and  earnestly, 
till  suddenly  he  found  his  eyes  suffused  with  tears. 

"  Poor  little  woman !  "  he  murmured,  tenderly — "  Poor 
innocent  little  woman !  " 

And  then  he  thought  of  Jacynth  Miller.  He  remembered 
every  detail  of  her  appearance  the  last  time  he  had  seen  her, — 
he  knew  the  exact  and  particular  shade  of  blue  she  had  worn 
— he  could  almost  see  the  fashion  of  her  bodice,  open  at  the 
throat  to  show  the  whiteness  of  her  skin,  and  the  drooping 
petals  of  the  flowers  she  had  pinned  just  above  the  full  curve 
of  her  bosom.  And  she — even  she — had  come  fresh  from  the 
embraces  of  Dan  Kiernan!  A  shudder  ran  through  him, — 
a  kind  of  nausea,  such  as  might  possibly  affect  a  sensitive 
man  if  he  were  told  that  a  delicately  plumaged  bird  had 
fallen  into  the  gutter  and  been  trampled  by  a  routing  swine. 
Could  she  not  have  been  saved  from  such  a  fate?  Bob  Had- 
ley's  dying  cries:  "Save  Jacynth!"  rang  in  his  ears  with 
haunting  persistence.  If  he  had  only  known!  But  he  had 
never  even  suspected  that  she  could,  or  would  have  had  so 
much  as  a  passing  fancy  for  such  a  brutish  creature  as  Dan 
Kiernan.  Accrediting  her  with  no  more  evil  than  an  excess 
of  vanity  and  heartlessness,  he  had  thought  of  her  as  a  wild, 
half-educated  girl,  endowed  with  an  extraordinary  beauty 
which  in  her  case  amounted  to  a  misfortune, — a  girl  who 
needed  to  be  dealt  with  firmly,  yet  kindly, — and  he  had 
hoped  that  in  time,  with  care  and  teaching,  he  might  have 
helped  to  mold  her  character,  and  fit  her  for  some  useful 
service.  As  this  reflection  crossed  his  mind  he  felt  his  face 
grow  hot  with  mingled  anger  and  shame.  For  while  he, 
like  a  fool,  had  been  meditating  on  possible  ways  and  means 
for  her  better  training,  she,  if  her  boorish  lover  might  be 
believed,  had  merely  been  vowing  to  number  him,  the  Vicar 
of  the  parish,  among  her  conquests!  The  whole  episode 
worried  him, — he  would  have  given  a  great  deal  had  he 


162  HOLY     ORDERS 

been  able  to  forget  it.  But  it  was  just  one  of  those  uncom- 
fortable happenings  which,  in  the  whole  length  of  a  lifetime, 
refuse  to  be  forgotten. 

That  evening  he  found  the  Vicarage  very  lonely,  and  him- 
self very  restless.  It  was  a  fine  night,  though  cold, — the 
sky  was  covered  with  masses  of  dense  cloud  which  drifted 
along  so  slowly  as  to  almost  appear  motionless,  and  now  and 
then  a  solitary  star  gleamed  forth  like  a  spark  glowing 
through  smoke,  to  vanish  again  as  soon  as  it  appeared.  A 
touch  of  frost  made  the  air  keen  and  bracing,  and  deciding 
that  a  walk  would  do  him  good  before  retiring  to  rest,  he 
put  on  his  hat  and  overcoat  and  went  out.  As  he  shut  his 
house  door  behind  him,  he  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  garden 
listening,  as  it  were,  to  the  silence.  It  was  a  silence  heavy 
and  intense,  yet  suggestive  of  an  under-current  of  sustained 
sound  that  sullenly  refused  to  make  itself  audible.  One 
heard  nothing,  yet  felt  that  there  was  everything  to  hear. 
Oppressed  and  saddened  by  his  own  thoughts,  he  went 
quickly  across  the  lawn  and  through  the  dark  winding  shrub- 
beries to  the  gate  which  opened  upon  the  high-road,  and 
there  leaned  for  a  moment  looking  at  the  dim  twinkle  of 
the  lights  in  the  village  of  Shadbrook — very  few  and  uncer- 
tain in  their  glimmerings,  like  glow-worms  shining  in  a 
moist  tangle  of  green.  \ 

"A  handful  of  souls!"  he  mused — "Just  a  handful — 
scarcely  enough  to  make  the  merest  infinitesimal  speck  of 
molecular  dust  in  the  whirl  of  the  cosmos!  And  yet — we 
must  believe  that  God  cares  for  even  this  handful !  " 

He  unlatched  the  gate,  and  passing  out,  walked  on  down 
the  road  towards  the  bridge.  From  that  point  he  could 
command  a  view  of  both  '  old  '  and  '  new '  Shadbrook,  and 
here  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  night  was  broken  by  the 
noise  of  the  little  stream  running  along,  no  doubt  with  quite 
as  busy  a  cheerfulness  as  when  the  Romans  built  their  dura- 
ble arch  of  stone  across  it.  On  either  side  of  the  bridge, — 
to  the  east  on  the  one  hand,  to  the  west  on  the  other,  a 
strong  flare  of  light  shone  forth  with  a  vivid  yellow  bril- 
liancy, and  Everton  sighed  impatiently  as  he  looked  at  what 
he  knew  was  the  fiery  Pharos  of  Drink  flaming  from  the  two 
public-houses,  which,  so  far  from  being  rivals,  were  jointly 
concerned  in  making  as  much  as  they  could  for  themselves 


HOLY     ORDERS  163 

and  for  Minchin  to  whom  they  were  '  tied,'  out  of  the 
bodies  and  souls  of  the  hapless  villagers  who  ignorantly  con- 
sumed the  deadly  poison  they  were  licensed  to  sell. 

"  All  the  mischief  is  centered  there !  "  he  said  half  aloud — 
"  In  the  drink,  which  it  would  seem  that  Heaven  itself  is 
powerless  to  fight  against.  If  by  some  miracle  of  intervention 
those  two  public-houses  could  be  closed,  or  done  away  with, 
I  should  have  more  hope  of  the  men  and  women  committed 
to  my  charge, — but  while  the  actual  laws  of  the  country 
permit  so  many  blood-poisoners,  masquerading  as  brewers 
and  spirit  distillers,  to  make  utter  havoc  of  the  moral  and 
physical  condition  of  the  people,  what  can  I  or  any  member 
of  my  calling  do  ?  Our  remonstrances  are  met  with  derision, 
and  we  ourselves  are  looked  upon  as  fools  for  our  pains. 
Even  the  teaching  of  Christ  Himself  hardly  touches  the 
Drink  question,  for  he  preached  His  Gospel  in  the  East, 
where  drunkenness  is  not  a  national  vice.  I  have  heard 
special  pleaders  quote  His  own  words  and  actions  as  argu- 
ments in  favor  of  the  public-house, — because  He  praised  the 
publican  more  than  the  Pharisee  in  the  parable,  and  also  be- 
cause His  first  miracle  was  to  turn  water  into  wine.  And 
they  recall  His  choice  of  Lev!  the  Publican,  whom  He  com- 
manded to  follow  Him,  and  they  relate  the  story  of  how 
Levi  '  made  Him  a  great  feast  in  his  own  house,  and  there 
was  a  great  company  of  publicans  and  others  that  sat  down 
with  them.'  Therefore,  so  they  would  argue,  the  Founder 
of  the  Christian  Faith  would  seem  to  have  rather  favored 
than  blamed  the  sellers  of  drink  to  the  people.  It  is  all  very 
difficult  and  very  perplexing;  the  evil  is  one  which  we 
clergy  ought  to  fight,  but  we  lack  both  the  means  and  the 
authority  for  combat." 

Just  then  he  heard  a  confused  din  as  of  shouting  and 
laughter  echoing  out  on  the  air  from  the  public-house  which 
was  nearest  to  where  he  stood, — the  '  Stag  and  Crow,'  with 
whose  proprietor,  Mr.  Topper,  he  had  ventured  to  plead 
against  the  sale  of  more  drink  to  Dan  Kiernan  on  the  day  of 
that  misguided  man's  assault  on  his  wife.  He  walked 
towards  it,  halting  immediately  opposite  its  brightly  lit  up 
windows,  two  of  which  were  open  at  the  top,  though  the 
blinds  were  all  drawn  to  prevent  any  stray  passer-by  from 
seeing  what  was  going  on  inside.  One  blind,  however,  was 


164  HOLY     ORDERS 

not  quite  down, — between  its  lower  edge  and  the  window- 
sill  there  was  about  an  inch  of  clear  glass, — and  through 
this  some  half-a-dozen  small  boys  of  the  village  were  ear- 
nestly peeping,  all  holding  each  other  by  the  arms  and  press- 
ing their  noses  against  the  pane.  The  tin-like  tinkling  of  a  bad 
piano  badly  played  struck  the  quietness  of  the  outer  air  with 
a  rough  blow  of  vulgarity,  and  every  now  and  then  the  roar 
of  men's  rowdy  laughter,  capped  by  a  feminine  scream  or 
hysterical  giggle,  outraged  the  peaceful  hush  of  night.  The 
boys  who  were  spying  through  their  inch  of  window-pane 
were  frequently  convulsed  with  mirth, — at  certain  moments 
they  bent  and  doubled  up  their  childish  figures  with  such  an 
excess  of  laughter,  that  as  they  stood  outlined  in  the  dark- 
ness by  the  flare  of  the  lights  within,  they  suggested  to 
the  mind  a  band  of  fantastic  gnomes,  engaged  in  watching 
the  progress  of  some  devil's  mischief  to  humanity.  Everton 
looked  at  them  scrutinizingly,  but  though  he  knew  every  boy 
in  the  village,  he  could  not  immediately  identify  them, — 
presently,  however,  when  he  saw  them  rolling  together,  as 
it  were,  one  upon  another,  in  a  prolonged  and  united  fit  of 
ecstasy,  he  went  straight  up  to  them. 

"Boys,  what  are  you  doing  here?"  he  asked,  gently. 

They  all  turned,  and  stared  at  him.  One  of  them,  a  rosy- 
cheeked  little  urchin  with  a  tangle  of  fair  curls  falling  over 
his  innocent  blue  eyes,  answered  shyly: 

"We  was  watchin'  the  droonk  folk!  " 

Everton  patted  the  small  upturned  head. 

"  And  do  you  think  they're  worth  looking  at  ?  "  he  asked. 

Another  bigger  boy  spoke. 

"They'se  like  the  clowns  at  the  circus!"  he  said — "All 
a-toomblin'  over  each  other  an'  a-grabbin'  at  chairs  an' 
tables  to  keep  steady-loike — an'  there's  gels  as  is  pullin'  all 
their  'air  down  an'  larfin'  theirselves  silly !  " 

Everton,  recognizing  one  of  his  Sunday-school  lads,  took 
him  gently  by  the  arm. 

"  I  wish  you'd  all  go  home," — he  said,  kindly — "  It's  not 
a  pretty  sight.  It's  a  shocking,  horrible  sight ! — try  to  forget 
you've  ever  seen  it.  Or,  if  you  must  remember,  let  it  remain 
in  your  mind  as  something  to  be  feared  and  avoided.  There's 
nothing  so  vile  and  ugly  in  all  the  world  as  a  drunkard. 
You  know  I'm  right,  don't  you?" 


HOLY     ORDERS  165 

They  peeped  up  at  him  submissively.  A  faint  chorus  of 
small  voices  answered: 

"Yes,  sir!" 

He  smiled,  and  led  them  along  in  a  little  group  away 
from  the  scene  which  had  so  fascinated  them. 

"  Run  home,  like  good  children !  "  he  said,  cheerily — 
"  Home  to  your  mothers,  and  to  bed !  It's  time  for  you  all 
to  be  sound  asleep.  Good-night !  God  bless  you !  " 

Off  went  all  the  little  caps  in  a  row. 

"Good-night,  sir!" 

Everton  lifted  his  own  hat  and  stood  bareheaded  in  the 
quiet  gloom  for  a  moment,  while  these  small  scions  of  future 
manhood  went  their  way  in  obedience  to  the  impression  his 
kind  voice  and  manner  had  made  upon  them, — and  there  was 
a  stinging  moisture  in  his  eyes  as  he  watched  them  disappear. 

"Poor  little  souls!"  he  murmured — "  Who  can  blame 
them  if  their  early  conceptions  of  life  and  the  things  of  life 
are  dark  and  crooked?  Man's  willful  degradation  of  him- 
self is  bad  enough — but  when  he  degrades  his  children,  and 
through  them  spreads  the  contamination  of  his  own  disease 
to  future  unborn  generations,  surely  no  estimate  can  suffi- 
ciently gauge  the  enormous  extent  of  his  selfishness  and 
crime!  It  is  not  of  ourselves  we  should  think,  for  our- 
selves are  always  too  much  with  us; — it  is  of  others — others 
upon  whom  our  conduct  and  example  may  have  a  lasting 
good  or  evil  influence." 

At  that  moment  a  yell  of  hysterical  laughter  pierced  the 
air,  and  through  the  open  doorway  of  the  '  Stag  and  Crow ' 
some  eight  or  nine  men  and  women  came  reeling  out  into 
the  road.  The  piano  went  on  tinkling  brassily  inside,  and 
two  women,  with  their  hair  tossing  loosely  about  their  faces, 
and  their  tawdry  '  scoop  '  hats  falling  off  like  battered  lamp- 
shades on  their  backs,  began  to  dance  wildly  opposite  each 
other  in  the  fantastic  gyrations  common  to  the  gutter  music- 
hall  stage  and  known  as  the  '  cake  walk.' 

"  Come  on,  Dan !  "  they  screamed — "  Come  on,  an'  show 
us  a  bit  o'  yer  quality !  " 

And  roars  of  laughter  went  up  from  the  whole  group,  as 
Dan  Kiernan,  in  a  condition  that  can  only  be  described  as 
'  dead  drunk,'  suddenly  staggered  forward,  hatless,  and  coat- 
less,  his  face  swollen  and  blurred  out  of  all  intelligent  human 


1 66  HOLY     ORDERS 

semblance  by  the  red  fire  of  the  corroding  liquor  that 
inwardly  ravened  and  consumed  him,  and  his  massive  figure 
swaying  with  an  unwieldy  helplessness  like  a  drifting  log 
swirled  to  and  fro  in  the  strong  cross-currents  of  a  swift 
stream.  The  women  rushed  at  him  and  seized  him — one  on 
either  side  and  each  gripping  an  arm, — and  so  between  them 
the  wretched  fool  was  made  to  caper  heavily  backwards  and 
forwards  like  a  clumsy  bear  in  chains,  amid  repeated  shrill 
yells  and  hoarse  guffaws  of  idiotic  laughter. 

"  Step  it  out,  Dan ! "  cried  one  man,  stumbling  back 
against  the  public-house  door — "  Step  it  out!  I'd  dance  all 
night  if  my  old  'ooman  was  dead !  " 

Another  roar  of  laughter  hailed  this  witticism,  and  the 
insane  '  cake-walk '  went  on  with  redoubled  vigor,  improved 
and  sustained  by  sundry  fits  of  hiccoughing  on  the  part  of 
Kiernan,  which  were  loudly  applauded  by  the  clapping  of 
hands  and  stamping  of  feet.  All  at  once  and  quite  quietly, 
Everton  stepped  out  from  the  shadows  which  had  till  now 
concealed  his  presence,  and  stood  for  a  moment  in  full  view 
of  the  disheveled  company.  There  was  a  sudden  pause — 
an  equally  sudden  silence.  Then  one  of  the  women  who 
held  Kiernan's  arm  burst  into  a  tipsy  laugh. 

"  It's  the  parson !  "  she  yelled — "  Lordy-dordy  me !  It's 
the  parson !  " 

Kiernan  stopped  in  his  Bruin-like  shuffling,  and  tried  to 
steady  himself. 

"The  parson!"  he  stuttered — "  Wot's  'e  a-doin'  of  'ere? 
Turn  'im  out!  D'ye  'ear,  boys?  Turn — turn  'im  out! 
We  doan't  want  no  parsons  'ere,  talking  'igh  an'  mighty  an* 
mterferin'  wi'  the  poor  man's  'ome !  "  Here  he  gave  a 
heavy  lurch  forward  and  would  have  fallen,  but  for  the 
women,  who,  giggling  crazily,  still  held  him  up.  "  We 
doan't  want  no  parsons!"  he  repeated,  raising  his  rough 
voice  to  a  savage  roar — "  Damn  'em  all,  I  say!  Eh,  boys? 
Damn  'em  all !  " 

Without  a  word  or  further  look,  the  Vicar  turned  and 
walked  away.  As  he  disappeared,  the  dapper,  self-important 
proprietor  of  the  '  Stag  and  Crow,'  Mr.  Topper,  suddenly 
showed  himself  at  the  threshold  of  his  '  licensed  premises  ' 
and  smiled  benevolently  on  the  group  of  his  recent  customers, 
who  were,  together  with  Dan  Kiernan,  whom  they  still 


HOLY     ORDERS  167 

escorted,  beginning  to  roll  and  stagger  and  straggle  away 
in  the  various  directions  of  their  several  homes.  With  the 
pleasant  smile  still  on  his  fat  face,  he  carefully  shut  the  door 
of  the  bar,  and  locked  and  bolted  it  with  much  emphatic 
noise,  while  some  one  within  extinguished  all  the  lights, 
exactly  as  the  church  clock  struck  eleven. 

Everton,  reaching  his  own  house  again,  heard  the  chime 
pulsate  in  musical  beats  through  the  silence,  like  a  sweet 
voice  made  tremulous  by  tears.  His  nerves  were  throbbing 
— his  mind  was  weary — and  a  fatigued  protest  rose  up 
within  him  against  the  apparent  uselessness  of  effort  and  the 
vanity  of  all  toil.  Kiernan's  coarse  words  echoed  in  his  ears 
with  the  pertinacity  of  an  unavenged  insult.  "  We  doan't 
want  no  parsons!  Damn  'em  all,  I  say!  "  To  this  end  an 
irresponsible  Press  was  bringing  the  People! 

"  And  to  this  end," — he  thought,  "  Education  without 
Religion  will  rear  its  Christ-less  human  brutes  of  the  next 
generation ! " 


CHAPTER   X 

'"THERE  are  what  may  be  called  'gray  days'  in  every 
1  human  life — days  of  mental  mist  and  drizzle,  when  the 
heaven  of  thought  is  overcast  and  no  glimpse  of  brightness 
breaks  upon  the  soul, — days  which  leave  a  dark  blur  upon 
the  mind  too  deep  to  be  erased  or  forgotten.  One  of  the 
worst  and  dreariest  of  such  days  was  that  on  which  Richard 
Everton  performed  the  last  rites  of  the  Church  for  the  ill- 
fated  Jennie  Kiernan.  Never,  to  his  own  thinking,  had  he 
conducted  a  more  melancholy  funeral.  Pitiful  in  its  plain 
poorness,  it  was  nevertheless  rendered  impressive  by  the 
crowd  of  mourners  following  the  coffin — for  the  village 
had  turned  out  nearly  all  its  inhabitants,  many  of  them 
giving  up  a  day's  work  and  wage  in  order  to  pay  a  final 
tribute  of  respect  to  the  mortal  remains  of  a  woman  whose 
chief  claim  upon  the  regard  of  her  neighbors  had  been  her 
long-suffering  and  always  uncomplaining  patience.  They 
gathered  round  the  grave  in  massed  groups,  their  stolid 
faces  guiltless  of  any  expression, — and  listened  in  heavy  si- 
lence while  their  Vicar  solemnly  enunciated  the  too  familiar 
'  ashes  to  ashes — dust  to  dust '  phrase,  which  by  constant 
repetition  had  become  almost  meaningless  to  their  ears, — 
and  it  was  only  now  and  then  that  Everton  caught  a  few 
furtive  glances  from  eyes  that  were  suddenly  lifted  to  his 
face,  as  though  in  wonder  or  inquiry — glances  that  set  his 
nerves  quivering  and  made  the  blood  rise  to  his  brows. 
For  he  understood  the  meaning  of  those  covert  looks  which 
expressed  yet  concealed  an  unspoken  doubt, — he  saw  that  in 
each  of  those  ignorant,  narrow  and  prejudiced  minds,  one 
idea  had  been  implanted,  and  that  idea  was,  that  '  if  the 
parson's  wife  hadn't  gone  meddlin'  with  what  wasn't  her 
business,  Jennie  Kiernan  wouldn't  have  died.'  Instinctively 
he  felt  the  atmosphere  of  a  dull  resentment  rising  against 
him — resentment  that  was  as  reasonless  as  it  was  obstinate. 
And  his  speech  faltered  a  little  as  he  read  of  the  '  voice  from 
heaven '  which  promised  the  dead  '  rest  from  their  labors.' 

168 


HOLY     ORDERS  169 

Rest  just  now  seemed  to  him  the  sweetest  and  most  desir- 
able thing  in  the  world,  for  he  was  weary  in  heart  and 
spirit.  The  strong  consciousness  that  his  ministration  of 
the  Gospel  was,  to  a  very  great  extent,  utterly  futile,  weighed 
upon  him  heavily.  In  this  one  poor  parish  of  Shadbrook 
he  could  count  nothing  but  failures.  His  influence  had 
worked  no  good — it  had  neither  checked  drink  nor  immoral- 
ity. Even  young  Hadley,  who,  for  the  greater  part  of  his 
last  illness  had  shown  a  wonderfully  docile  and  Christian 
spirit  of  resignation  and  patience,  had  died  raving  for  the 
love  of  a  woman,  and  blasphemously  denying  the  existence 
of  God.  And  Jacynth  Miller — she — but  of  her  he  would 
not  allow  himself  to  think.  He  was  thankful  when  all 
was  over,  and  when,  having  seen  Jennie  Kiernan's  coffin 
lowered  into  the  ground,  the  villagers  slowly  and  silently 
dispersed.  One  woman  lingered  behind  the  rest,  and  curt- 
seying respectfully,  spoke  to  him  in  a  hushed  voice  with 
tears  in  her  eyes — and  this  was  Jennie's  loyal  friend,  Mrs. 
Adcott. 

"I'm  right  sorry  it's  all  happened  as  it  has," — she  said — 
"  It's  cross  work  and  cruel, — that  it  is,  sir, — but  Jennie,  for 
all  that  she  was  a  hard-working  woman,  had  a  lovin'  heart, 
an'  it  just  broke  when  she  knew  Dan  worn't  true  to  her. 
She'd  a'  borne  anything  else — ay,  if  Dan  had  a'  kicked  'er 
to  death,  she'd  a'  taken  it  thankful  an'  died  blessin'  'im,  so 
long  as  he'd  been  her  man,  but  when  she  heerd  'im  ravin' 
like  mad  because  Jacynth  had  left  'im " 

"  Yes — yes,  I  know !  "  interrupted  Everton — "  I  know  it 
all, — don't  speak  of  it  any  more!  The  whole  affair  is  most 
unfortunate.  I  could  perhaps  have  saved  her  if  I  had  been 
told  in  time " 

"  Well,  sir,  it  wasn't  for  the  like  of  us  to  tell  you," — 
and  Mrs.  Adcott  wiped  her  eyes — "  You  see  Jacynth,  she 
went  to  church  reg'lar,  and  took  the  Lord's  bread  and 
wine " 

Everton  turned  very  white. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  with  sudden  stiffness — "  I  am  aware  of 
all  the  facts — now.  Don't  let  us  talk  of  the  miserable 
story  here! " — and  he  pointed  to  the  open  grave — "  It  is 
not  the  time  or  the  place." 

Mrs.  Adcott  curtsied  again  meekly,  and  went  away  with 


170  HOLY     ORDERS 

bent  head,  crying  softly.  For  a  moment  the  Vicar  stood 
inert, — for  a  moment  he  lifted  his  pale  face  to  the  lowering 
sky  which  darkly  threatened  rain,  as  though  in  mute  appeal, 
— then  he  signed  to  Stowey  the  sexton,  who  advanced  at 
once  and  began  the  work  of  '  covering  in,'  or  as  he  himself 
was  wont  to  express  it — '  putting  a  warm  quilt  on  a  cold 
sleeper.' 

"  There  worn't  no  chief  mourner  to-day," — he  said,  as 
he  cast  the  loose  earth  rattling  down  upon  Jennie  Kiernan's 
coffin ;  "  Dan,  he  wor  up  an'  away  'fore  'twas  dawn,  an' 
his  sticks  o'  furniture  went  arter  'im  at  ten  o'clock.  There's 
a  men's  dinner  on  at  the  Brewery,  on  account  of  it's  bein' 
Mr.  Minchin's  birthday.  Dan  wouldn't  miss  that  if  'e'd 
got  twenty  wives  bein'  buried — he's  a  new  '  hand  '  at  the 
Brewery,  an'  of  course  they'll  drink  'is  'elth !  " 

Everton  said  nothing.  '  Silent  Stowey '  was  not  usually 
so  communicative. 

"  Mr.  Minchin's  birthday  it  is!  "  he  went  on,  with  a  kind 
of  inward  chuckle — "  That's  a  fine  thing  for  rejoicin',  ain't 
it !  "  And  he  threw  an  extra  large  shovelful  of  earth  into 
the  grave.  "  He  drinks  'is  own  'elth  in  water,  an'  he's 
kind  enough  to  let  his  Brewery  men  drink  it  in  poison !  " 

The  Vicar  let  this  satire  pass  without  comment. 

"  Dan  Kiernan  has  left  the  village  for  good,  then,  I 
suppose?  "  he  said. 

"Or  for  bad," — retorted  Stowey — "Ay!  It  seems  like 
it." 

With  this  last  remark  he  relapsed  into  his  usual  taciturn- 
ity. Everton  watched  him  working  for  a  while,  and  then 
rain  beginning  to  fall,  returned  to  the  Vicarage  and  to  the 
quiet  of  his  own  study.  Here  he  made  combat  against  his 
own  sense  of  utter  depression  by  writing  a  long  letter  to  his 
wife,  though  he  was  not  at  all  sure  she  would  read  it 
through.  The  charming  Azalea  was  fond  of  asserting  that 
letters  '  bored  '  her,  especially  when  she  was  expected  to 
answer  them.  But  he  felt  the  necessity  of  expressing  his 
thoughts  to  somebody,  even  though  that  somebody  might 
be,  as  far  as  mental  receptiveness  was  concerned,  the  merest 
nobody — so  he  penned  an  eloquent,  tender,  graceful  and 
affectionate  epistle,  telling  her  everything  he  imagined  she 
might  wish  to  know,  softening  all  that  was  gloomy  or  un- 


HOLY     ORDERS  171 

pleasant  in  the  Kiernan  incident,  and  only  dwelling  par- 
ticularly on  the  fact  that  Dan  himself  had  now  left  the 
village  to  work  at  Minchin's  brewery,  ten  miles  off,  so 
that  she  need  not  fear  any  personal  annoyance  from  him 
in  her  daily  walks  at  home. 

"  Don't  stay  away  now  unless  you  like," — he  concluded 
— "  Think  that  a  day  without  you  and  Laurence  is  to  me 
longer  than  a  year,  and  come  back  soon,  for  I  am  very 
lonely.  I  want  you  every  minute,  for  life  itself  is  too  short 
a  span  in  which  to  express  how  much  I  love  you."  And  he 
signed  himself  as  usual  her  '  devoted  husband,'  feeling  satis- 
fled  that  his  appeal  would  bring  her  back  at  once.  In  fact, 
when  his  letter  was  posted,  he  began  to  look  up  the  possible 
trains  by  which  she  could  return  the  very  next  day. 

"  She  will  be  sure  to  come,"  he  said  to  himself — "  When 
she  knows  Kiernan  is  out  of  the  village,  she  will  want  to 
get  home  as  quickly  as  she  can." 

But  in  this  he  was  mistaken.  Azalea  did  not  want  to 
get  home  quickly  by  any  means.  He  was  indeed  altogether 
unprepared  for  the  ease  with  which  she  managed  to  exist 
without  his  company.  She  answered  his  letter  and  told 
him  she  was  '  so  happy '  at  the  sea-side,  and  '  Baby  was  so 
well,  that  it  seemed  dreadful  to  have  to  return  to  Shad- 
brook  too  soon ! ' 

"  I'm  so  glad,  darling,"  she  wrote,  in  her  pretty,  charac- 
teristic running  hand, — "  that  the  dreadful  man  Kiernan 
has  gone  out  of  the  place — he  was  a  horror!  But  he's  just 
the  sort  of  brute  that  Minchin  would  like  to  have  in  his 
nasty  smelly  yards, — rolling  casks  about  or  driving  a  dray 
along.  I  should  say  he  would  do  very  well  as  a  brewery 
hand,  and  as  he  will  always  be  drunk,  he  will  be  quite  a 
nice  advertisement  for  Minchin's  Ale!  Won't  he?  Baby 
is  so  brown  and  lovely! — he  makes  the  most  beautiful  sand 
forts,  and  actually  finds  fhrimps!  Just  a  few  days  longer, 
dear  old  Dick,  and  we  will  come  home !  " 

He  sighed  as  he  finished  reading  the  light,  inconsequent 
school-girl  sentences, — then  he  smiled. 

"  Poor  little  woman,"  he  murmured  tenderly — "  I  dare- 
say it's  very  dull  for  her  here — very  dull!  Even  love  itself 
is  not  always  sufficient  to  lighten  monotony.  Love  it- 
self  " 


172  HOLY     ORDERS 

Here  he  paused,  and  began  to  think  introspectively  as  to 
the  nature  of  love.  Scientifically,  it  has  been  defined  as 
'  the  law  of  attraction  between  the  sexes,'  and  if  any  estimate 
is  to  be  formed  by  the  conduct  of  the  present-day  man  and 
woman  in  their  marriages,  it  seems  no  more  than  this. 
But  to  Richard  Everton  it  was  much  more.  To  him,  love 
meant  the  sanctification  of  life.  It  does  not  mean  this  to 
the  majority  of  men.  Once,  now  and  again,  the  Beatific 
Vision  of  the  Ideal  shines  into  the  soul  of  a  poet  or  other 
world's  dreamer, — but  that  it  should  descend  from  the  high 
empyrean  and  dwell  with  a  plain  country  parson,  is  a  strange 
and  unusual  circumstance.  Yet  so  it  was, — and  the  perfect 
conception  of  perfect  love  which  he  cherished  with  such 
tender  tenacity,  made  him  a  much  greater  man  than  he 
realized  himself  to  be.  Heroisms  and  martyrdoms  in  embryo 
were  hidden  beneath  this  central  pure  flame  which  domi- 
nated his  existence,  and  the  intellectual  power  that  lay  dor- 
mant within  him  was  being  steadily  nourished  and  strength- 
ened by  many  springs  of  bitter-sweetness  which,  uncon- 
sciously to  himself,  flowed  through  his  whole  being,  though 
they  often  poured  themselves  to  waste  on  the  very  small  and 
limited  plot  of  love's  garden-ground  which  his  pretty  wife 
with  her  graceful  figure  and  charming  face  represented. 
And,  moved  by  the  unselfishness  which  always  led  him  to 
consider  her  happiness  more  than  his  own,  he  resigned  him- 
self cheerfully  to  the  loneliness  her  absence  imposed  upon 
him,  determining  to  let  her  enjoy  herself  at  the  sea-side  as 
long  as  she  liked,  without  obtruding  any  personal  complaint. 
Meanwhile,  he  went  about  his  ordinary  duties  with  re- 
doubled energy,  believing  that  if  he  mingled  familiarly  with 
his  parishioners  and  showed  no  sign  of  constraint  or  em- 
barrassment, they  would  open  their  hearts  to  him  freely  on 
the  matter  of  the  Kiernan  episode,  concerning  which  he 
felt  there  was  much  more  to  learn  than  had  yet  been  told. 

But  in  this  expectation  he  was  disappointed.  The  vil- 
lagers were  sad — not  to  say  sullen.  They  received  him 
everywhere  civilly  enough — but  they  were  distinctly  not 
in  the  humor  to  volunteer  any  confidences.  And  when  Sun- 
day came  round  he  noticed  that  the  attendance  at  church 
was  much  smaller  than  usual.  This  pained  him  consider- 
ably,— the  more  so  as  he  felt  himself  to  be  innocent  of  any 


HOLY     ORDERS  173 

offense  against  his  '  little  flock.'  In  the  vexation  of  his  heart 
he  spoke  about  this  sudden  falling  away  of  his  congregation 
to  Dr.  Brand. 

"  I  cannot  understand  it," — he  said,  wearily — "  What 
have  I  done?  " 

Brand  looked  at  him  with  a  touch  of  compassion. 

"Nothing!"  he  answered  promptly — "That's  just  it! 
You  have  done  nothing!  But  the  rustic,  or  let  us  say,  the 
bucolic  mind,  has  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  which  are  com- 
pletely the  reverse  of  right  and  wrong  as  you  and  I  conceive 
them, — and  the  result  of  this  topsy-turvy  view  of  things  is 
that  Shadbrook  considers  Dan  Kiernan  a  deeply  injured 
man!" 

Everton  gave  a  kind  of  hopeless  gesture. 

"  So!  "  he  ejaculated — "  Is  that  the  latest?  " 

"  That  is  the  very  latest !  "  and  Brand,  who  was  thor- 
oughly kind-hearted  as  well  as  eminently  practical,  laughed 
a  little — "  Don't  look  so  down  in  the  mouth  about  it!  You 
can't  weave  fine  silk  out  of  raw  hide,  and  these  people's 
sense  of  justice  is  as  primitive  as  are  their  passions.  They 
say  Dan  is  a  man,  and  can't  help  being  a  man — Jacynth  is 
a  girl  who  likes  men,  and  she  took  Dan  just  because  he 
came  handy — and  why  not?  And  they  kept  silence  while 
the  mischief  went  on,  thinking  that  '  least  said,  soonest 
mended.'  I  confess  I  thought  so  myself.  Then  when — 
when," — here  '  Dr.  Harry  '  hesitated  delicately — "  when  it 
became  necessary  to  tell  Dan's  wife  of  her  husband's  in- 
fidelity, why  then — well! — then  the  poor  woman  died  and 
got  out  of  her  trouble,  and  Jacynth  ran  off  with  another 
fellow,  as  was  to  be  expected, — but  Dan — Dan  remains  to 
bear  the  burden  of  having  lost  wife  and  sweetheart  both  at 
once  and  together!  Don't  you  see?  And  thus,  comfortably 
following  their  own  line  of  argument,  they  conclude  that 
after  all  Dan,  with  all  his  faults,  is  the  one  most  to  be 
pitied!" 

The  Vicar  sighed.  He  was  troubled, — but  could  not 
find  words  to  express  exactly  the  nature  of  his  trouble. 

"  Nothing  can  convince  these  sort  of  folk  of  the  true 
character  of  sin;" — went  on  Brand — "They  are  for  the 
most  part  more  barbaric  than  civilized,  and  their  notions 
of  life  are  not  much  higher  than  the  notions  of  savages  con- 


174  HOLY     ORDERS 

cerning  their  squaws  and  wigwams.  No  one  realizes  the 
utter  impossibility  of  reasoning  logically  with  them  so  well 
as  a  country  doctor.  When  any  affair  occurs  among  them 
like  this  of  Dan  Kiernan  and  Jacynth  Miller,  it  would  be 
no  use  for  me  to  tell  them  that  it  is  a  bad  and  immoral 
affair.  They  would  only  laugh  at  me.  Some  of  them  have 
no  sense  of  morality  or  immorality — and  you  might  talk 
to  them  for  a  year,  and  you  would  never  make  them  under- 
stand. If  you  were  to  take  the  statistics  or  standard  of 
morality  in  every  village  all  over  the  British  Isles,  you 
would,  with  your  idealistic  views,  be  simply  appalled  at  the 
result.  Rural  life  is  not  always  the  most  innocent — and  the 
'  sweet  sylvan  maid  '  of  the  poet's  line  may  be,  and  often 
is,  a  very  impudent  minx.  You  must  remember  that  in 
these  later  years,  the  current  press  has  made  a  mock  of 
marriage, — and  as  the  daily  halfpenny  papers  circulate  every- 
where, it  is  not  surprising  that  the  vices  of  the  country 
keep  pace  with  those  of  the  town." 

Everton  turned  upon  him  quickly. 

"Are  you  speaking  seriously?"  he  demanded,  with  eager 
and  sudden  vehemence — "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that 
the  teaching  of  the  Gospel  has  no  influence  ?  " 

Brand's  eyes  grew  sad  and  stern. 

"  I  will  not  say  it  has  no  influence," — he  replied — "  But 
it  has  not  so  much  as  it  might  have.  We  are  living  in  very 
evil  days, — and  the  Church  does  not  seem  strong  enough  to 
cope  with  its  adversaries.  Honestly  speaking,  I  pity  the 
clergy!  For  many  years  past  they  have  been  lax  in  their 
duties — they  have  taken  things  too  easily — and  the  conse- 
quence is  that  they  now  find  themselves  unprepared  for  dif- 
ficulty. Look  at  them!  Men,  educated  at  Oxford,  Cam- 
bridge or  other  of  the  Universities,  and  brought  up  without 
the  slightest  intimate  comprehension  of  the  real,  suffering, 
heart-broken  world  around  them " 

"  Heart-broken  world !  "  echoed  Everton — "  That's  a 
melancholy  phrase !  " 

"  It's  a  true  one! "  said  Brand — "The  only  really  happy 
human  creatures  in  it  are  very  young  children,  and  even 
they  are  not  exempt  from  pain.  But  for  grown  men  and 
women  who  have  to  face  all  the  countless  miseries  and  strug- 
gles of  life,  what  else  is  it  but  a  heart-broken  world?  Es- 


HOLY     ORDERS  175 

pecially  if  it  is  robbed  of  faith  in  God.  The  Christian  re- 
ligion was  given  to  us  to  help  mend  the  heart-break — has  it 
done  so?  No — because  its  ministers  will  not  allow  it  to 
do  so.  They  construe  its  simple  tenderness  by  the  light  of 
their  own  narrow  and  prejudiced  minds — and  those  who 
should  be  comforted  are  left  comfortless.  In  my  profession 
I  meet  with  cases  of  utter  mental,  moral  and  spiritual  de- 
spair every  day, — cases  where  both  the  Church  and  the 
resident  clergyman  have  done  their  little  best." 

"  You  are  very  eloquent," — said  Everton,  with  a  touch 
of  surprise — "  You  have  evidently  thought  a  great  deal  on 
the  subject " 

"  Pretty  much  so!  Doctors  think  more  than  you  might 
perhaps  suppose.  But  in  all  my  experience,  I'm  bound  to 
say  I  have  never  had  a  dying  patient  whose  condition  was 
not  made  worse  by  the  ministrations  of  the  clergyman. 
Now  " — and  the  doctor  squared  his  shoulders  and  looked 
full  into  the  face  of  his  quietly  attentive  listener — "  I  tell 
you  this  unpleasant  fact,  plainly  and  bluntly,  because  I 
can  see  you're  a  different  sort  of  parson  to  most  of  your 
class.  Holy  orders  are  really  '  holy '  to  you — and  you  evi- 
dently want  to  do  the  right  thing.  Well! — do  it! — and 
never  mind  if  you're  called  names.  It's  possible  to  preach 
Christ  to  humanity  in  the  true  way." 

"  A  way  I  hope  I  may  find," — said  Everton,  gently — 
"  I  shall  not  forget  your  words !  " 

"  As  for  the  villagers  falling  off  in  attendance  at  church," 
went  on  Brand — "  pay  no  attention  to  it.  They'll  only 
sulk  for  a  week  or  two.  Like  children,  they'll  soon  come 
out  of  the  corner.  The  chief  element  of  trouble  has  left 
the  place — Jacynth  Miller " 

"  Yes — I  wonder  where  she  has  gone  ?  "  Everton  put 
the  question  quickly  and  with  eagerness. 

Brand  glanced  at  him. 

"  Does  it  matter?" 

"  Oh,  it  matters  nothing — but — the  wreck  of  a  young 
girl's  life " 

"  She  has  wrecked  it  herself,  if  it  is  a.  wreck," — said 
Brand — "  You  may  consider  her  as  ruined, — but  she  con- 
siders her  fortune  made.  She  has  gone  off  with  an  actor 
— a  fellow  pretty  well  known  for  his  questionable  character 


176  HOLY     ORDERS 

and  insufferable  conceit — he  gets  up  provincial  '  amateur ' 
dramatic  societies,  and  touts  for  '  county '  bumpkins  tbat 
will  fee  him  for  training  them  to  make  asses  of  themselves 
on  the  stage.  He  snapped  up  Jacynth  for  her  face  and 
figure,  and  has  got  her  a  place,  so  I  hear,  at  some  London 
theater  as  a  chorus  girl.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she  ends 
by  becoming  a  peeress!  " 

"  You  jest,"  and  Everton's  brows  darkened — "  She  has 
gone  to  a  life  of  shame !  " 

"  You  think  so — of  course  you  would  think  so," — here 
Brand  smiled  indulgently — "She  doesn't.  Anyway  she 
began  the  life  of  shame  here — here,  in  apparently  innocent- 
looking  little  Shadbrook.  And  I  repeat, — with  her  beauty 
and  her  cajoling  ways,  she  will  probably  marry  one  of  our 
jejune  peers,  who  has  no  idea  of  a  woman  beyond  her  body. 
Virtue  is  out  of  date, — the  odd  marriages  made  by  some  of 
our  modern  men  show  that  they  have  apparently  ceased  to 
care  whether  a  woman  is  good  or  the  reverse.  Only  the 
other  day,  a  girl,  who  was  brought  up  before  a  magistrate 
on  a  charge  of  willfully  murdering  her  illegitimate  child, 
had  five  offers  of  marriage  before  she  left  the  Court !  What 
can  you  make  of  that?  I  know  plenty  of  good  honest  girls 
fit  to  be  excellent  wives,  and  never  a  breath  of  scandal  has 
touched  them — yet  they  don't  get  one  offer  of  marriage — 
much  less  five!  What  of  a  certain  Duchess,  none  of  whose 
children  were  born  in  wedlock, — and  who,  nevertheless,  is 
a  '  leader  of  society '  ?  The  times  are  corrupt — and  the 
best  and  most  patient  of  us  can  only  pray  that  some  great 
revolution  will  break  out  upon  us  before  it  is  too  late,  and 
cleanse  the  nation  of  its  accumulated  filth !  "  He  spoke  with 
strong  feeling — adding — "  It's  no  good  my  getting  on  these 
topics — my  thoughts  brim  over  and  I  talk  too  much.  But 
the  days  are  ripe  for  another  Peter  the  Hermit  to  preach  a 
new  and  higher  crusade.  Of  course  if  such  a  preacher  came 
he  would  be  laughed  at, — he  would  be  made  the  butt  of  the 
cheap  newspapers,  and  the  joke  of  the  stable  and  the  green- 
room— but  if  he  were  a  strong,  and  above  all,  a  sincere  man, 
he  wouldn't  mind  all  that, — and  he  might  turn  back  the  tide 
of  national  disaster — even  now !  " 

Everton  thought  over  this  conversation  for  days  after  it 
had  taken  place, — days  that  were  rather  more  than  usually 


HOLY    ORDERS  177 

productive  of  meditation,  owing  to  his  being  so  much  alone. 
The  little  Roman  Catholic  priest,  Sebastien  Douay,  came 
over  to  see  him  several  times,  his  visits  making  a  pleasant 
break  in  what  to  him  was  a  long  and  irksome  solitude — and 
the  at  first  merely  congenial  acquaintance  between  the  two 
men,  began  to  ripen  into  a  warm  friendship.  Douay  was 
not  only  tactful  and  kindly,  but  he  also  was  gifted  with  a 
cheerfulness  of  disposition  so  great  as  to  make  his  presence 
eminently  welcome  and  desirable  in  dull  weather,  a  fact 
which  he  himself  appeared  to  recognize,  for  he  generally 
chose  cold,  blustering  east-windy  afternoons  for  cycling  over 
to  the  Vicarage,  sometimes  in  the  very  teeth  of  a  strong  gale 
blowing  hard  against  him. 

"  I  love  the  cold !  "  he  would  say — "  I  love  the  cross  wind ! 
They  are  good  to  fight  with!  Often  I  have  much  quarrel 
in  my  mind — quarrel  with  the  world — quarrel  with  wicked 
human  nature — quarrel  with  myself!  And  it  is  better  to 
use  one's  angry  force  against  bad  weather  than  against  bad 
men!  That  is  how  your  Mistaire  Gladstone  did, — he  was 
often  very  angry,  sans  doute! — he  must  have  wished  to 
chop  off  heads — instead  of  that  he  chopped  down  trees! 
So  wise  of  him! — to  get  rid  of  hot  blood!  It  is  what  you 
call  to  '  let  off  steam  ' !  " 

Everton  was  often  amused  at  the  little  man's  unruffled 
philosophy. 

"  I  believe  you  are  never  out  of  temper!  "  he  said  to  him 
one  day — "  You  never  seem  to  be  annoyed  or  anxious  or 
sorry  about  anything!  " 

Douay  spread  out  his  plump  hands  with  a  deprecatory  air. 

"  Ah,  you  mistake !  "  he  answered — "  I  am  not  of  stone, 
my  friend! — not  all  indifferent — no!  But  to  be  annoyed 
— why  should  I  be  ?  At  what  ?  For  whom  ?  For  some  one 
who  thinks  he  troubles  me?  Then  I  give  him  pleasure  by 
showing  that  he  is  of  importance  to  me!  Then  again, — to 
be  anxious  will  make  me  that  I  am  not  at  all  sure  of  God. 
This  would  be  wicked — for  I  am  sure  of  Him!  "  Here  he 
shook  his  finger  emphatically  in  the  air — "  Sure !  Remem- 
ber, in  this  age  of  mockery,  to  put  so  much  to  the  credit 
of  a  leetle  priest  Roman  Catholique.  But, — to  be  sorry — 
ah  yes!  I  am  sorry  all  the  hours  of  all  the  days! — sorry 
for  others! — never  for  myself." 


178  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  Never  sorry  for  yourself !  "—^repeated  Everton,  thought- 
fully— "  You  mean  you  have  nothing  to  regret  or  to  de- 
sire?" 

"Nothing!" — and  Douay's  eyes  shone  with  a  steadfast 
light — "  Not  now!  In  the  old  days,  perhaps, — when  I  was 
young — then  it  may  be  that  the  love  of  God  seemed  cold 
and  distant — and  the  love  of  life — and  woman — seemed 
too  near  and  dear! — but  now — now  I  would  not  change  my 
lot  wifh  that  of  'any  man !  No — I  have  no  desire  and  no  re- 
gret— except  sometimes  for  my  leetle  French  parish,  where 
I  trained  the  children  to  love  their  prayers  and  their  sweet 
thoughts  of  Heaven — for  by-and-bye  there  will  be  no 
children  left  who  will  know  how  to  pray — thanks  to  mod- 
ern Governments ! — but  after  all !  " — and  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders  lightly — "  They  will  continue  to  do  without  me 
— no  man  is  missed  anywhere  more  than  a  few  weeks, — 
if  so  long !  " 

Everton  was  silent.  His  thoughts  had  jumped  to  a  purely 
selfish  and  personal  consideration — for  he  wondered  if 
Azalea,  supposing  he  should  be  parted  from  her  for  any 
great  length  of  time,  would  miss  him?  The  answer  to  this 
question  in  his  own  mind  was  so  decisively  in  the  negative 
that  he  almost  recoiled  from  its  emphasis.  He  would  miss 
Her — he  missed  her  now — every  moment  of  every  hour — 
but  he  could  not  flatter  himself  that  his  feeling  was  recipro- 
cated. Yet  she  loved  him — certainly  she  loved  him.  Then 

— what  was  love ?  The  agreeable  voice  of  Sebastien 

Douay  interrupted  his  brief  meditation. 

"  And  when  does  your  wife — the  angel  of  your  paradise 
— return  ?  " 

A  slight  flush  of  color  warmed  the  Vicar's  pale  face. 

"  Soon — very  soon !  "  he  replied  hastily — "  The  sea  air 
is  very  good  for  her  and  the  child " 

"  I  see — I  understand !  "  and  Douay  nodded  amicably — 
"And  do  you  hear  any  more  of  the  drunkard  who  was  so 
much  cause  of  trouble?  Shall  I  tell  you  some  news  of 
him?" 

"You?"  exclaimed  Everton,  with  interest — "Do  you 
know  how  he's  getting  on  ?  " 

"  I  know !  "  and  Douay  nodded  again  a  great  many  times 
— "I  know  that  Mistaire  Minchin  gives  him  free  beer! 


HOLY     ORDERS  179 

Free,  my  friend! — think  of  it! — nothing  to  pay  for  drinking 
as  much  poison  as  he  likes!  All  day  long,  all  night  long, 
he  can  drink,  if  he  so  desires!  He  has  a  certain  wage  a 
week,  free  beer,  and  a  cottage  on  the  brewing  estate  of  the 
excellent  Minchin.  He  is  what  you  call  '  in  clover.'  He 
is  drunk  every  night — his  cottage  is,  unhappily  to  say,  quite 
near  to  mine, — and  he  is  to  me  a  noisy  and  disagreeable 
neighbor.  So,  one  day  I  go  to  Minchin — I  say  with  all 
politeness — '  Monsieur,  one  of  your  men  comes  home  every 
night  drunk,  and  makes  so  much  noise  near  my  windows 
that  I  cannot  sleep!  Mistaire  Minchin  look  at  me  with  a 
grin — he  has  the  face  of  a  fox  and  the  eyes  of  a  wolf, — 
and  he  reply : — '  I  am  sorry !  But  I  am  not  responsible  for 
my  men's  actions  when  they  are  off  duty.  What  man  is 
it?'  I  name  Dan  Kiernan.  Mistaire  Minchin  offers  me 
another  grin.  '  An  excellent  fellow ! '  he  say — '  excellent ! 
He  has  recently  lost  his  wife — poor  woman! — she  was  wor- 
ried to  death  by  the  Vicar  of  Shadbrook,  who  is  always  in- 
terfering with  his  parishioners '  " 

Richard  uttered  an  indignant  exclamation.  Douay  held 
up  a  pacifying  hand. 

"Be  patient,  my  friend! — be  patient!"  he  said — "I  am 
only  telling  you  the  liar's  way  of  lying — you  do  not  expect 
truth  from  Minchin? — then  why  trouble  yourself?  'Dan 
Kiernan  is  a  most  valuable  hand  ' — he  say  again — '  I  re- 
spect him  very  greatly.  I  have  never  seen  him  drunk — and 
I  think  you  must  be  mistaken.  In  any  case,  I  can  do 
nothing.'  So  he  give  me  a  bow  and  one  more  grin — and 
I  go.  Eh  bien! — that  is  all.  Except  this" — here  Douay 
folded  his  arms  and  looked  defiant — "  Suppose  I  try  and 
reform  this  madman  of  drink — this  Kiernan — suppose  I 
make  him  Roman  Catholique  ?  " 

Everton  stared — then  smiled. 

"  I  should  think  you  would  have  a  poor  convert ! "  he 
said. 

"  Or  '  pervert,'  "  retorted  Douay — "  Now  listen,  my  dear 
Protestant  friend! — which  will  you  prefer?  That  the  man 
Kiernan  remain  as  he  is — a  drunkard — or  that  the  Church 
of  Rome  shall  take  hold  of  him  and  make  him  sober?" 

"  If  the  Church  of  Rome  can  do  that,  she  will  perform 
more  than  many  of  her  boasted  miracles," — said  Everton, 


i8o  HOLY     ORDERS 

with  a  sense  of  pain  and  irritation  which  he  could  not  quite 
control — "  It  is  not  for  me  to  say  a  word  in  the  matter.  If 
you  think  you  can  succeed  where  I  have  failed " 

"  Attention !  "  and  Douay  shook  a  forefinger  in  the  air 
again ;  "  This  is  what  I  will  point  out — for  of  this  I  have 
cause  to  complain.  Here  is  a  man — bad,  villainous,  danger- 
ous— and  so  far  as  we  can  see,  the  Church  Protestant  can 
do  nothing  with  him.  You  are,  for  the  moment,  in  Shad- 
brook,  the  Church  Protestant.  I  am  the  very  poor  leetle 
avant-courier  of  the  Church  Roman  Catholique  in  a  neigh- 
boring parish.  I  say  always  '  Roman,'  because  some  of  your 
what  you  call  '  High  '  Church  parsons  say  they  are  '  Catho- 
lique' without  the  Roman.  Now  to  my  mind  this  cannot 
be.  The  Christian  Church  first  began  to  form  itself  in 
Rome — or  at  least  that  is  how  I  take  it, — and  we  look  back 
so  far  down  the  ages — so  far! — and  with  all  our  faults — 
crimes  if  you  will — our  human  mistakes  and  follies  and 
cruelties, — our  creed  is  older  than  the  divorce  of  Henry  the 
Eighth  from  Catharine  of  Arragon.  Ah  yes! — we  count 
among  us  the  early  saints  and  martys! — my  friend,  we  have 
great  ancestors!  But  now  see! — the  priest  of  the  Church 
Protestant  will  rather  let  a  man's  soul  perish  altogether  in 
wickedness  than  he  will  see  a  priest  of  the  Church  Roman 
Catholique  save  him!  And  I  say  to  you — Is  that  Chris- 
tian?" 

Everton  had  risen  from  his  chair  during  the  last  two  or 
three  minutes,  and  was  now  standing  facing  his  companion 
with  a  look  of  very  real  distress  in  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you — can  you — think  me  so  narrow — so  bigoted  ?  " 
he  began. 

Douay  was  beside  him  instantly,  tapping  a  friendly  hand 
on  his  arm. 

"  No,  no !  I  do  not  think  that  you — the  man — are  so, — 
but  you,  the  priest,  the  parson  of  the  Church  Protestant — 
is  it  not  your  duty  to  keep  all  your  own  sheep  in  your  own 
fold?'^  ' 

"  It  is  so  certainly — but "  Everton  hesitated,  pained 

and  perplexed, 

"  But ! — ah,  it  is  a  but !  Now  I  will  tell  you  what  your 
business  is,  my  friend!  It  is  to  say  at  once  that  you  do  not 
think  the  Church  Roman  can  save  the  soul  of  the  drunkard, 


HOLY    ORDERS  181 

or  any  soul  whatever, — that  you  do  not  believe  that  any 
Church  has  any  good  in  it  but  the  English  Church  Protes- 
tant. That  is  what  you  should  say  to  me.  Why  do  you  not 
say  it  ?  " 

He  looked  up  with  a  bright  questioning  glance.  Everton 
was  silent. 

"  Let  us  be  men,  you  and  I !  "  went  on  Douay — "  Let  us 
say  what  we  think,  and  be  honest  before  all  things — for  the 
good  God  is  surely  looking  at  us!  Let  us  bravely  confess 
that  neither  of  us  are  at  all  sure  whether  we,  or  our  differ- 
ent churches  are  strong  enough  or  pure  enough  to  save  any 
soul, — and  so,  in  our  different  ways  of  teaching,  let  us  do 
our  leetle  best  without  quarrel!  It  is  quarrel  that  makes 
all  the  mischief! — quarrel  that  again  nails  our  dear  Lord 
to  the  Cross!  We  must  not  grudge  one  another  our  very 
small  victories !  " 

And  with  a  quick  impulsive  movement  he  held  out  his 
hand.  Everton  pressed  it  warmly. 

"You  are  right!"  he  said — "And  I  certainly  shall  not 
grudge  you  any  victory  you  may  win  over  Kiernan.  But  I 
think  you'll  have  to  conquer  Minchin  first !  " 

Douay  laughed. 

"  Ah !  That  I  will  not  try.  A  brewer  is  worse  than  a 
drunkard — when  he  does  not  drink  his  own  beer!  He  then 
calls  himself  '  respectable  ' — and  Monsieur  the  Devil  be- 
gins to  love  him!  The  Church  may  have  some  power  over 
a  really  bad  man  who  knows  he  is  bad  and  confesses  it — 
but  never  over  a  '  respectable  '  fraud !  " 

That  evening  the  little  priest  remained  to  dine  and  sleep, 
— and  what  with  the  pleasure  of  an  intricate  game  of  chess, 
followed  by  an  examination  of  certain  old  books  and  manu- 
scripts which  Everton  possessed  and  of  which  Douay  was 
an  able  and  intelligent  judge,  the  time  passed  so  quickly 
and  agreeably  that  all  depression  and  dullness  were  banished, 
and  for  one  evening  at  least,  life  at  Shadbrook  Vicarage 
ceased  to  be  tedious  and  the  Vicar's  '  parochial '  outlook 
seemed  to  have  insensibly  widened.  So  much  so  indeed  that 
he  was  in  a  manner  startled  when  shortly  after  Douay's 
departure  next  morning  he  received  a  telegram  from  his 
wife  announcing  that  she  was  returning  home  that  very  day. 
Surprise,  however,  soon  gave  way  to  delight — and  his  spirits 


1 82  HOLY     ORDERS 

rose  to  an  almost  boyish  pitch  of  excitement,  as  he  went 
about  the  house,  putting  bunches  of  such  flowers  as  he  could 
find  or  procure,  on  the  various  tables  in  the  different  rooms, 
— urging  the  servants  to  make  everything  look  as  bright  as 
possible  for  their  mistress's  home-coming,  and  all  the  time 
feeling  in  his  own  mind  that  the  best  he  could  do  was  but 
poor  service  for  so  fair  and  winsome  a  creature  as  Azalea, 
who,  so  he  romantically  imagined,  should  have  had  a  palace 
to  dwell  in,  with  gayly-attired  '  vassals '  at  her  beck  and 
call,  rather  than  an  old-fashioned  country  parsonage,  with 
only  an  old-fashioned  country  parson  to  place  his  heart  un- 
der her  little  feet  and  thank  her  for  trampling  on  it. 

"  For  I  am  old-fashioned !  "  he  argued  with  himself — 
"  There's  not  a  doubt  of  it.  I'm  old-fashioned  in  my  opin- 
ions and  my  ways,  and  I'm  dull.  I  don't  wish  to  disguise 
it.  I'm  certainly  dull.  I  wonder  how  Azalea  can  put  up 
with  me  sometimes.  For  if  I  find  life  in  Shadbrook  rather 
slow,  what  must  she,  with  all  her  grace  and  beauty,  find  it  ? 
Poor  little  soul !  " 

And  yet  no  prettier,  cosier  home  ever  threw  open  its 
doors  to  any  woman  than  Shadbrook  Vicarage  when,  just 
as  evening  was  closing  in,  Azalea  arrived,  and  springing 
lightly  out  of  the  old  dog-cart  which  had  been  sent  to  the 
station  to  meet  her,  laughingly  submitted  to  be  caught  in  her 
husband's  embrace  and  kissed  with  all  a  lover's  ardor. 

"Oh,  Dick!  "  she  exclaimed,  as  she  entered  the  house — 
"We  have  had  such  a  good  time!  Look  at  Baby!  Did 
you  ever  see  such  a  brown  darling  ?  " 

The  '  brown  darling '  here  handed  over  by  Nurse  Tom- 
kins  to  receive  his  father's  caresses,  was  indeed  the  picture 
of  health,  though  he  was  only  very  slightly  '  brown.'  The 
sea  had  certainly  given  a  warmer,  ruddier  tinge  to  his  fair 
skin,  and  his  eyes  were  more  wonderful  than  ever — or  at 
least,  so  Richard  thought,  as  the  little  fellow  raised  them 
to  his  face  with  all  the  serious,  divinely  contemplative  sweet- 
ness that  Raffaelle  painted  in  the  eyes  of  his  child-angels  at 
the  feet  of  the  Virgin.  It  was  difficult  to  imagine  a  child 
with  such  eyes  ever  growing  up, — for  eyes  so  pure  and 
brilliant  are  never  seen  in  the  head  of  an  adult  man.  Evil 
thoughts  and  gross  desires  soon  darken  the  first  heavenly 
clearness  of  those  '  windows  of  the  soul,'  and  such  men  and 


HOLY    ORDERS  183 

women  as  possess  any  heart,  conscience  or  feeling  must 
surely,  when  looking  into  a  child's  eyes,  feel  something  of 
regret,  even  of  shame,  that  such  beautiful  trust  and  candor 
therein  expressed  should  be  destined  to  betrayal  and  disap- 
pointment. Everton  himself  was  often  troubled  by  such  an 
emotion — and  at  times  he  would  even  think  whether — the 
world  being  what  it  is — it  is  right  or  just  to  inflict  upon  any 
innocent  spirit  the  doom  of  mortal  life?  Especially  if,  as 
advanced  scientists  maintain,  life  is  only  another  name  for 
death.  "  I  am  thankful," — said  a  philosopher  once — "  that 
I  have  no  children.  I  could  not  have  endured  the  terrible 
responsibility  of  bringing  more  sufferers  into  such  a  hell  as 
man  has  made  this  world  for  his  brother  man." 

At  the  present  moment,  however,  the  glamour  and  gayety 
of  Azalea's  bewitching  presence  drove  every  other  thought 
out  of  her  husband's,  head,  and  the  happiness  he  felt  in  hav- 
ing his  wife  and  child,  the  two  treasures  of  his  heart,  safely 
home  again  under  his  own  roof-tree,  was  too  great  to  be 
clouded  by  so  much  as  the  briefest  foreboding.  And  how 
the  little  woman  chattered  to  be  sure! — chiefly  of  the  shops 
in  Weston-Super-Mare — and  of  the  '  fashions '  in  that  far 
from  fashionable  sea-side  resort,  where  the  '  tripper '  is  the 
principal  personage  in  evidence,  and  where  the  weirdly-at- 
tired elite  of  Bristol  take  the  air  much  more  frequently  than 
my  lady  Tom  Noddy  of  London  Town.  But  such  '  stylish  * 
modes  as  Weston  could  display  were,  of  course,  positively 
dazzling  to  the  fancy  of  a  pretty  feminine  creature  whose 
purchases  had  often  to  be  made  at  the  small  '  general  store ' 
in  Shadbrook  village,  where  a  mild,  fat  man  dispensed 
gammon  of  bacon  and  plain  calico  with  equally  zealous  and 
unwashen  hands.  Occasionally,  but  only  occasionally,  Aza- 
lea went  to  Cheltenham  and  even  to  Gloucester  to  buy  little 
fineries  for  herself  and  '  Baby  dear,'  but  Cheltenham  shops 
were  expensive,  she  said,  and  Gloucester  shops  a  little  '  be- 
hind the  time,'  and  as  for  Birmingham — well! — no  self- 
respecting  woman  would  ever  descend  to  such  a  level  of 
costume  as  that  set  forth  by  Birmingham  models!  Weston 
seemed  to  have  fitted  itself  into  a  blank  place  in  her  affec- 
tions— and  she  babbled  of  dress  continuously,  in  a  running, 
rippling  way  that  was  quite  bewildering  to  Richard,  though 
he  did  his  best  to  understand  it  all  and  to  sympathize  with 


1 84  HOLY     ORDERS 

the  ardent  feeling  which  no  mere  husband's  love  could  rouse 
in  her, — the  thrill  of  the  lace  blouse — the  joy  of  the  crazily- 
feathered  hat — the  dreamy  delirium  of  the  chiffon  tea- 
gown. 

"  I  wish  I  were  rich  enough  to  buy  such  pretty  things  for 
you !  "  he  said  gently,  as  she  finished  a  cooing  rhapsody  on 
the  glory  of  a  blue  silk  frock  embroidered  in  silver — "  You 
ought  to  have  them " 

"  Of  course  I  ought !  "  she  agreed  merrily,  as  she  came 
and  seated  herself  like  a  child  on  his  knee — "  I  ought  to 
have  the  most  beautiful  clothes,  for  I  love  them!  I  do! 
And  Baby  ought  to  be  dressed  like  a  little  prince!  But 
you're  only  a  clergyman,  poor  dear  Dick! — and  I'm  only  a 
clergyman's  wife — and  there  we  stick!  Don't  we?"  Here 
she  kissed  him  lightly.  "  And,  after  all,  it's  no  good  having 
nice  clothes  when  one  lives  in  Shadbrook.  There's  nobody 
to  dress  for." 

"  No — I  suppose  there  isn't," — Richard  sighed — then  his 
eyes  sparkled  with  a  kindly,  mischievous  little  smile — 
"  There's  only  Mrs.  Minchin!  And  you  can  always  make 
her  jealous  if  you  only  wear  a  cotton  frock !  " 

Azalea  nodded  her  fair  head  very  decisively. 

"  Of  course !  I  always  do  and  I  always  shall !  But  that's 
such  easy  work !  She's  so  '  horsey,'  and  she  hasn't  a  particle 
of  taste.  She  ought  to  have  married  Dan  Kiernan !  " 

Everton  was  silent.  He  held  his  wife's  left  hand  in  his 
own,  and  his  eyes  rested  on  the  wedding-ring  that  encircled 
her  tiny  third  finger.  What  a  symbol  it  was !  "  Till  death 
do  us  part."  Till  death!  The  thought  of  death  gave  him 
a  pang,  and  he  folded  the  warm  little  hand  closer. 

"  You're  glad  to  be  home  again,  darling  ? "  he  asked 
wistfully — "  Glad  to  be  with  me  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  smiling. 

"Of  course  I'm  glad  to  be  with  you,  Dick!  I'm  not 
quite  glad  to  be  home — because — well,  because  it's  a  bit 
dull, — and  the  Shadbrook  people  are  so  stupid — and  the  vil- 
lagers drink  so  dreadfully " 

His  kind  face  clouded  a  little. 

"  Yes,  I  know ! — I  know  it  must  be  dull  for  you — I  wish 
I  could  change  the  character  of  the  place  and  the  people 
altogether  for  the  better," — he  said,  rather  sorrowfully, — 


HOLY    ORDERS  185 

"  But  you  will  have  no  more  very  great  annoyance — Kiernan 
never  comes  near  the  village " 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  afraid  of  him  now" — she  said  carelessly 
— "  It's  all  over,  you  see.  His  poor  wife  is  buried — I'm  sure 
she  must  be  glad  to  be  out  of  her  misery! — and  that  wicked 
girl  Jacynth  has  gone  away,  nobody  knows  where.  And  we 
shall  have  peace,  except  when  more  drunken  men  knock  their 
wives  about  as  they're  sure  to  do — for  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood simply  swarms  with  drunkards.  However,  even  peace 
is  rather  tame  when  one  gets  too  much  of  it,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Some  people  find  it  so," — he  answered,  slowly — "  till 
they  make  war.  And  then  they  crave  for  peace  again." 

"  Never  satisfied ! — just  like  me !  "  laughed  Azalea — 
"  But  I'm  going  to  be  very  good,  Dick,  I  promise !  I'm 
going  to  visit  all  the  old  crippled  men  and  women,  and  take 
cans  of  soup  into  all  the  stuffy  cottages,  and  inquire  after 
the  pigs  and  the  poultry  and  the  babies,  and  I'll  leave  tracts 
all  about  everywhere!  I  will!  There!  And  the  people 
shall  show  me  all  their  bad  legs  and  sore  toes,  and  ulcers 
and  other  horrors — and  I'll  look  at  them,  because  though  I 
don't  think  God  wants  me  to  look  at  them  particularly, 
still  I  suppose  it's  my  duty  to  do  so.  And  I'll  be  ever  so 
prim  and  proper !  "  She  broke  into  a  silvery  little  ripple 
of  mirth,  and  threw  her  arms  coaxingly  round  his  neck — 
"  You  wait  and  see!  I'll  wear  an  old  woman's  bonnet 
if  you  like!  I'll  try  and  be  very  matronly  and  prosaic — in 
fact,  you  won't  know  me,  I'll  be  so  good  and  quiet!" 

Her  gay  laughter  rang  out  again,  and  Richard,  half 
pained,  half  amused,  was  fain  to  laugh  with  her.  But  that 
night  as  she  lay  sleeping  on  his  arm,  her  lovely  gold  hair 
falling  loosely  round  her  like  a  shower  of  sunbeams  round 
a  rose,  he  looked  at  her  with  a  strange  dawning  sense  of 
complete  isolation.  The  pale  glimmer  of  the  night-lamp 
showed  him  the  whiteness  of  her  throat  and  bosom — the  long 
fringes  of  her  eyes  sweeping  the  delicate  bloom  of  her  cheeks 
— the  crimson  of  her  slightly-parted  lips  through  which  the 
breath  came  and  went  evenly — all  this  beauty  of  body  was 
his,  he  thought,  and  yet — yet  he  had  somehow  failed  to 
possess  the  soul  that  surely  was  contained  like  a  jewel  in 
that  exquisite  casket  of  pearl  and  ivory.  It  was  an  elusive 
soul, — the  soul  of  a  butterfly  rather  than  the  soul  of  a 


1 86  HOLY     ORDERS 

woman — but  this  he  would  not  admit  even  to  himself.  No 
man  cares  to  realize  that  his  wife  is  of  all  persons  in  the 
world  the  one  least  sympathetic  to  him,  for  he  has  gener- 
ally made  both  his  own  choice  and  his  own  mistake.  And 
Richard  Everton  was,  for  the  immediate  hour,  no  stronger 
or  wiser  than  most  of  his  sex,  and  therefore  satisfied  him- 
self with  the  outward  loveliness  of  the  woman  he  adored, 
accepting  it  as  the  reflex  of  an  inner  nature  which  he  was  not 
pure  enough  to  fathom.  So  he  soothed  and  tranquillized 
his  restless  mind  with  the  gentle  balm  of  humility  and  self- 
depreciation, — while  the  dumb,  mysterious  forces  that  se- 
cretly work  in  unison  with  natural  laws  to  mold  the  charac- 
ter of  a  human  being  of  whom  the  world  has  need,  gathered 
closer  together  around  him  in  light  clouds  of  premonitory 
counsel — clouds  which  were  destined  to  darken  and  break 
over  his  devoted  head  in  a  resistless  storm  of  command. 


CHAPTER    XI 

TIME  passes  slowly  in  an  English  country  village, — so 
slowly  indeed  that  to  active  and  ambitious  minds  the 
lapse  between  one  Sunday  and  the  next  seems  more  like 
months  than  days.  The  smaller  the  community  of  persons 
the  narrower  is  their  outlook  on  life,  and  the  more  self- 
centered  do  they  become.  The  infinitely  little  matters  of 
a  provincial  town  loom  large  to  the  restricted  brain  of  the 
provincial  town-councillor,  and  still  more  important  are 
the  ethics  of  the  village  pump  to  a  handful  of  villagers. 
Such  people  know  and  care  to  know  nothing  of  the  larger 
world;  whether  kings  or  republics  handle  the  reins  of  gov- 
ernment is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  them,  provided  their 
own  cabbage  plots  are  prospering.  Seasons  come  and  go, — 
the  sharp  inclement  spring  offers  them  just  sufficient  matter 
for  grumbling  till  summer  arrives  to  be  grumbled  at  in  its 
turn  as  being  either  too  moist  or  too  dry  or  too  windy  or 
too  '  muggy/ — summer  passes  into  autumn,  which  brings 
them  their  annual  burden  of  cherished  complaints, — colds, 
rheumatism  and  divers  other  aches  and  pains, — then  the  long 
winter  darkens  over  them  with  its  mornings  and  nights  of 
black  frost,  and  its  pale  cold  noons  of  utter  cheerlessness, 
when  nothing  occurs  of  any  interest  from  the  beginning  of 
the  day  to  the  end  of  it, — nothing  to  rouse  the  dormant 
intellect  or  give  the  slightest  impetus  to  the  vital  forces — and 
no  reason  is  apparent  why  such  lives  should  be  lived  at  all, 
unless  it  is  necessary  to  remind  man  that  in  his  bucolic  type 
he  is  not  much  higher  in  the  scale  of  creation  than  a  beetle. 
Of  course,  for  those  whose  minds  are  '  tempered  to  fine  is- 
sues,' and  whose  brains  are  not  rendered  numb  by  the  con- 
stant pressure  of  solitude  and  monotony,  there  is  much 
pleasure  to  be  found  in  the  rural  life  so  bepraised  by  certain 
poets  who  have  never  lived  it;  for  the  intellectual  eye  per- 
ceives beauty  everywhere  and  in  everything — in  the  hectic 
red  of  dying  leaves  at  the  damp  fall  of  the  year — in  the 
sparkle  of  frost  on  the  window-pane — in  the  thousand  and 

187 


1 88  HOLY     ORDERS 

one  small  things  that  help  to  strike  harmonious  vibrations 
on  the  strings  of  emotional  sentiment ;  but  even  to  a  cultured 
intellect,  no  matter  how  well  controlled  by  a  philosophic 
spirit,  a  rural  district  which  is  wholly  lacking  in  refined 
or  intelligent  society  is  apt  to  grow  more  difficult  to  live 
in  as  the  time  goes  on.  For  intellect  is  like  steel — it  must 
strike  against  something  of  the  same  resisting  quality  as 
itself,  before  sparks  of  fire  can  be  generated.  Thus  it  hap- 
pened that  the  Reverend  Richard  Everton,  shut,  as  it  were, 
within  himself,  ceased  to  struggle  against  what  appeared  to 
be  life's  destiny,  and  unconsciously,  but  none  the  less  surely, 
became  more  and  more  of  a  silent,  reserved  and  almost  shy 
man,  quite  unintentionally  managing  in  this  way  to  widen 
the  breach  which  had  been  so  unreasoningly  created  between 
himself  and  his  parishioners  by  the  Kiernah  episode.  It 
was  a  breach  that  he  could  not  help, — his  gentle  efforts  to 
build  up  harmony  again  out  of  what  had  been  a  discord  in 
the  parish  were  not  appreciated;  and  Dan,  drunken,  foul- 
mouthed  and  villainous, — Dan,  in  a  place  of  trust  at  Min- 
chin's  Brewery — Dan,  earning  good  wages  every  week  and 
drinking  two  quarts  of  '  free '  poison  every  day,  one  quart 
in  the  morning  and  one  more  in  the  evening,  besides  a 
number  of  other  '  drinks '  at  his  own  expense,  was  spoken 
of  by  the  Shadbrook  people  as  something  of  a  hero,  while 
his  dead  wife  was  reverenced  as  a  martyr  to  '  church  '  inter- 
ference. Jacynth  Miller's  name  was  seldom  mentioned, 
though  rumors  were  about  that  her  portrait  as  one  of  the 
chorus  girls  in  a  Greek  classical  play,  had  been  seen  in  a 
London  pictorial.  It  was  Mrs.  Moddley  who  heard  this 
piece  of  news,  and  she  repeated  it  to  Mortar  Pike. 

"  She  was  took  with  no  clothes  on," — and  Mrs.  Moddley 
in  announcing  the  startling  fact,  sniffed  meaningly — "  Which 
is  to  say  just  a  shift  droppin'  off  'er  an'  'er  'air  down. 
That  'ud  be  Jacynth  all  over !  " 

The  aged  '  Bricks  and  Mortar '  chuckled. 

"  So  it  'ood ! — so  it  'ood !  "  he  averred — "  An'  mighty  fine 
she'd  look  in  a  shift! — mighty  fine!  Wouldn't  she  now? 
Just  the  shape  for  a  shift!  I'd  give  a  bob  to  see  her  like 
that  myself ! " 

"  Mercy  on  us !  "  Mrs.  Moddley  shot  this  exclamation 
at  him  as  from  a  pop-gun — "  An'  you  totterin'  on  the  brink 


HOLY    ORDERS  189 

o'  Kingdom  Come!  Well,  Mr.  Pike!  I  'ad  thought  better 
o'  you!" 

Pike  shook  his  gray  head  to  and  fro  like  the  movable 
porcelain  figure  of  a  Chinese  mandarin. 

"Wheer's  the  'arm? — wheer's  the  'arm?"  he  demanded, 
pipingly — "  If  we  b'leeves  the  Bible,  the  Lord  made  us  at 
the  first  wi'  no  clothes  on,  an'  we  was  all  good  and  'appy 
as  babes  in  the  wood  then.  'Ow  d'ye  get  out  o'  that?" 

Mrs.  Moddley  made  no  attempt  to  get  out  of  it, — she 
simply  gave  another  portentous  sniff  and  retired  into  ob- 
scurity. 

Nothing,  however,  of  the  supposed  public  pictorial  repre- 
sentation of  Jacynth  reached  the  ears  of  either  the  Vicar  or 
his  wife.  So  far  as  they  two  were  concerned,  the  villagers 
seemed  to  be  banded  together  in  a  conspiracy  of  silence 
on  the  subject,  and  once  when  Everton,  seized  by  a  sudden 
restless  desire  to  know  or  hear  something  of  the  lost  girl, 
called  at  the  miserable  and  ill-kept  cottage  where  the  old 
woman  lived  who  was  understood  to  be  Jacynth's  aunt  or 
great-aunt,  he  was  met  by  a  torrent  of  vituperation  from  the 
bent  and  wrinkled  crone,  who,  like  one  of  the  worst-looking 
of  Macbeth's  witches,  shook  her  skinny  fist  in  the  air  and 
bade  him  '  get  off  her  doorstep.'  She  was  half  dressed  and 
more  than  half  drunk,  and  her  voice  rang  sharp  and  shrill, 
acidulated  by  what  was  familiarly  known  in  the  neighbor- 
hood as  '  Minchin's  brew.' 

"  Git  off  my  doorstep !  "  she  yelled — "  You  black  sneak 
of  a  parson,  you!  Comin'  round  to  worrit  me  inter  my 
grave  as  ye  worrited  Jennie  Kiernan,  are  ye!  Not  for  me, 
thank'ee!  You've  drove  my  gel  away  from  me,  an'  me 
without  'elp  to  do  my  work  an'  my  washin' — a  pore  old 
soul  like  me  with  the  rheumatiz," — and  here  maudlin  tears 
made  furrows  in  the  dirt  on  her  face — "  an'  wot  did  it 
matter  to  you  whether  she  was  one  man's  sweet'art  or 
t'other?  An'  the  kid  as  was  a-comin'  would  a'  bin  rare 
an'  useful  to  me,  speshul  if  't  'ad  bin  a  boy!  Git  off 
an'  git  out  wi'  ye!  Dan  Kiernan's  worth  a  dozen  of 


ye 


f  " 


It  was  impossible  to  speak  with  the  old  creature  in  her 
tipsy  fury,  and  Everton,  shuddering  inwardly  at  her  words 
and  all  they  implied,  made  no  attempt  at  either  reproach  or 


i9o  HOLY     ORDERS 

argument.  And  the  name  of  Jacynth  Miller  never  passed 
his  lips,  though  the  thought  of  her  lay  deeply  concealed  in 
his  mind. 

The  months  moved  on,  slowly,  laggingly,  and  unevent- 
fully, bringing  no  very  marked  change  to  Shadbrook  Vicar- 
age, its  surroundings  or  its  inmates,  save  the  increasing  in- 
timacy between  the  Evertons  and  their  friend  of  an  oppo- 
nent Church,  Sebastien  Douay.  Douay,  on  his  introduction 
to  the  Vicar's  pretty  wife,  had  made  no  attempt  to  conceal 
his  frank  admiration  of  her  beauty  and  grace,  and  Azalea 
was,  like  many  another  charming  woman,  pleased  to  have 
her  good  looks  appreciated  by  some  other  man  than  her  hus- 
band. For  husbands,  even  the  most  affectionate  ones,  some- 
times forget  to  say  the  sweet  nothings  which  came  so  readily 
to  their  lips  when  they  were  lovers;  and  wives  often  vainly 
crave  for  the  fond  observation  of  eye  and  tenderness  of 
speech  to  which  they  were  accustomed  before  marriage.  Aza- 
lea was  like  a  child  in  her  eager  response  to  flattery — she 
loved  a  compliment,  and  her  whole  nature  thirsted  for  adula- 
tion as  a  river  plant  thirsts  for  water.  Douay  saw  this  and 
humored  her, — playfully  and  kindly,  as  a  father  might  hu- 
mor a  spoilt  daughter,  and  they  became  great  friends.  He 
liked  the  winsome  little  creature, — he  listened  to  her  gay 
prattle  about  '  Baby  dear '  and  all  the  other  small  domestic 
concerns  which  made  up  the  sum  of  her  daily  life,  with  the 
most  exemplary  patience,  though  now  and  then  he  sup- 
pressed a  slight  sigh  of  weariness  and  glanced  curiously  at 
Richard,  wondering  how  it  had  chanced  that  such  complete 
opposites  had  become  united  in  holy  matrimony.  And  he 
occasionally  gave  secret  thanks  to  the  fates  that  had  made 
him  a  Roman  Catholic  priest  and  a  celibate,  though  this  was 
a  point  upon  which  Azalea  often  dwelt,  with  delightfully 
earnest  sympathy. 

"  It  must  be  so  dreadful  for  you," — she  would  say,  rais- 
ing her  beautiful  eyes  full  of  compassion  to  his  face — "  to 
have  no  one  to  love  you  and  to  take  care  of  you!  I  think 
the  rules  of  your  Church  are  simply  cruel!  Just  fancy! — 
no  one  to  mend  your  shirts  and  socks  and  things — how  ever 
do  you  manage  ?  " 

And  Douay  would  smile  deprecatingly. 

"Ah,   Madame!"  he  would  answer — "To  mend  shirts 


HOLY    ORDERS  191 

and  socks  is  an  easy  matter! — and  my  housekeeper,  who 
is  as  old  and  sad  to  see  as  you  are  lovely  and  charming, 
is  careful  of  me  in  that  regard.  Then,  she  is  a  good  cook, 
— all  wives  are  not  that,  chere  Madame!  She  wash,  she 
mend,  she  iron,  she  sew — she  work  for  me  from  morning 
until  night  for  very  leetle  money — but  she  never  grumble — 
she  never  scold — she  do  all  I  tell  her — eh  voila !  she  is  happy 
and  so  am  I !  " 

"  But  really  now," — Azalea,  sometimes  persisted — 
"  Wouldn't  you  have  liked  to  be  married  ?  " 

And  Douay  then  shook  his  head  decisively. 

"  Chere  Madame,  I  have  seen  the  world !  "  he  replied — 
"  Do  not  be  angry  with  me !  To  your  question  I  must  an- 
swer, No ! " 

Azalea  thought  this  very  wrong  and  absurd  of  him, — 
'  unnatural,'  she  termed  it,  to  her  husband. 

"  He's  really  such  a  pleasant  little  man," — she  said — "  So 
clever — such  a  good  talker  and  all  that.  It  is  sad  that  he 
should  be  a  Roman  Catholic  priest!  Now  if  he  were  a 
Church  of  England  clergyman  and  there  were  a  Mrs.  Douay, 
how  nice  it  would  have  been  for  me!  " 

Richard  smiled  at  this. 

"  It  might  not  have  been  nice  at  all," — he  said — "  You 
might  not  have  liked  Mrs.  Douay.  She  might  have  been 
jealous  of  you!  Things  might  have  happened  that  would 
have  made  our  two  families  mortal  foes!  You  never  can 
tell!  Douay's  all  right  as  he  is — better  single  than  mar- 
ried, /  think." 

Azalea  opened  her  eyes  wide. 

"Better  single!"  she  repeated— "  Better?  Oh,  Dick! 
Would  you  rather  be  without  me*?  " 

He  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Now,  darling,  aren't  you  turning  the  whole  question 
round  the  wrong  way?"  he  demanded,  laughingly — "You 
know  I  wouldn't,  couldn't  be  without  you!  You  know  I 
wouldn't,  couldn't  be  better  single !  But  Douay  is  different, 
— he  has  vowed  himself  to  the  service  of  God  only " 

He  broke  off.     Azalea  was  looking  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  But  haven't  you  also  vowed  yourself  to  the  service  of 
God?"  she  asked — "Haven't  you  taken  holy  orders?" 

A  slight  shadow  of  perplexity  swept  across  his  brow. 


I92  HOLY     ORDERS 

"Yes — of  course  I  have — but — somehow  it  is  differ- 
ent  " 

"  How  different?  Surely  a  married  man  can  serve  God 
as  well  as  a  bachelor!  Oh!  "  and  she  gave  vent  to  one  of 
her  musical  rippling  peals  of  merriment — "  You  might  just 
as  well  say  a  bird  can't  sing  when  it  has  a  mate!  " 

She  ran  off  gayly,  and  left  Richard  half  smiling,  half 
serious,  and  not  a  little  troubled  in  spirit  by  the  lurking 
consciousness  that,  after  all,  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
has  good  authority  for  the  celibacy  of  priests,  inasmuch  as 
the  Founder  of  the  Christian  Faith  had  certainly  demanded 
from  His  disciples  All  or  Nothing.  And  yet — to  give  up 
the  joy  and  consolation  of  human  love  was  surely  too  much 
to  ask,  and  against  the  very  teaching  of  all  Nature!  But 
then  again,  what  is  the  example  furnished  by  the  natural 
world?  To  eat,  sleep,  breed  and  die.  Nothing  further. 
The  natural  world  itself  voices  no  thought — it  merely  sug- 
gests thought  to  its  dominant  creature,  Man.  That  domi- 
nant creature  is  permitted  to  use  its  vast  resources — to  in- 
quire into  its  secrets — to  plumb  the  depth  of  its  hidden 
treasures, — and  though  pigmy  in  strength,  as  compared  to 
the  huge  forces  around  him,  is  given  the  eyes  and  the  mind 
to  weigh  and  consider  not  only  the  material  and  physical 
nature  of  the  globe  on  which  he  dwells,  but  also  the  move- 
ments and  mysteries  of  larger  worlds  beyond  his  ken.  With 
such  privileges  as  these,  is  there  no  Higher  Intention  for  a 
being  so  richly  endowed,  than  that  of  the  usual  procedure 
of  animal  life  on  the  planet  ?  There  is ;  there  must  be ;  else 
Creation  were  little  more  than  a  cruel  comedy.  And  Rich- 
ard Everton,  thinking  of  these  things,  could  not  but  admit 
to  himself  that  Christ's  mission  to  humanity  was  to  teach 
and  emphasize  that  Higher  Intention  of  life, — wherefore 
it  followed  that  His  servants  and  ministers  should  equally, 
both  by  precept  and  example,  teach  and  emphasize  the  same 
principle.  Now  did  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  work  on 
these  lines  better  than  the  Protestant?  This  was  the  ques- 
tion he  put  to  his  conscience, — and  his  reason  replied  at 
once  in  the  strongest  possible  negative.  Again, — -did  the 
Protestant  Church,  and  all  the  sects  which  like  branches 
from  a  tree,  sprouted  around  it,  truly  and  faithfully  enun- 
ciate the  doctrine  of  Christ  in  all  its  pristine  purity?  Here 


HOLY    ORDERS  193 

the  reply  came  hesitatingly  and  reluctantly — "  No ! — but  we 
do  our  best !  "  And  an  inward  passion  of  regret  moved  him 
as  he  thought  of  the  atheism  of  the  modern  day, — the  laxity 
of  the  law,  which  in  granting  '  liberty  of  conscience '  in 
religious  matters  forgets  to  set  a  restraint  on  open  blasphemy 
against  God  and  things  divine,  and  which  in  re-constituting 
new  methods  of  education,  blindly  prepares  the  way  for 
the  bringing  up  of  a  '  generation  of  vipers ' — a  generation 
without  faith,  without  morals,  without  heart,  without  love, 
without  pity — such  an  '  evil  and  adulterous  generation '  as 
is  bound  to  be  the  disgrace  and  ruin  of  a  once  glorious 
empire. 

"We  do  our  best!"  he  repeated  sorrowfully — "We  do 
our  wretched  little  best!  And  we  know  how  wretched  and 
little  it  is!  We  know  that  the  Press  rights  the  Pulpit  as 
Thrones  fight  Peoples — always  under  cover  of  sympathy  and 
friendship — with  a  poisoned  knife  in  a  velvet  glove!  We 
know — even  /  know — that  if  the  Government  could  stop 
the  sale  of  strong  drink  all  over  the  country, — it  would 
not, — because  of  depletion  to  the  national  revenues.  It 
would  rather  see  one  quarter  or  one  half  of  the  population 
idiots  or  criminals  through  Drink,  and  all  set  free  to  per- 
petuate the  race  of  idiots  and  criminals,  than  make  any 
positively  firm  stand  against  the  evil.  It  will  not  even  frame 
laws  that  shall  insist  on  the  selling  of-  pure,  unadulterated 
liquors  to  the  million.  As  a  matter  of  right  and  justice  the 
brewer  who  poisons  beer,  the  distiller  who  poisons  spirit, 
should  be  heavily  punished,  not  only  by  a  '  fine '  which  is  a 
mere  farce,  but  by  several  months'  imprisonment,  without 
any  option  of  getting  '  bought  off,' — and  in  that  case  Gov- 
ernment would  have  to  imprison  several  members  of  its  own 
House!  But  nothing  will  be  done — nothing,  that  is  to  say, 
of  any  real  service — and  drunkards  will  increase  and  multi- 
ply, and  replenish  the  earth  and  subdue  it.  Ministers  of 
the  Gospel  are  blamed  because  their  teaching  of  Christianity 
cannot  persuade  men  and  women  to  greater  self-control, — 
but  what  minister  of  a  parish  would  hold  the  place  for  a 
week  if  he  dealt  plainly  with  every  one  in  it?  What 
preacher  ever  preached  truth  to  a  king  or  queen  without  re- 
ceiving a  polite  intimation  that  Majesty  would  not  again 
require  his  services?  Why,  if  an  Archangel  entered  the 


194  HOLY     ORDERS 

private  apartment  of  King  Edward  the  Seventh  or  the 
Kaiser  and  ventured  to  reproach  either  one  potentate  or  the 
other,  the  heavenly  messenger  would  be  '  hustled  '  out  of 
the  royal  presence  by  a  valet  or  Court  Chamberlain!  For 
we  are  the  veriest  humbugs,  after  all!  We  pretend  to  be- 
lieve in  God — and  yet  if  we  are  told  that  our  conduct  is 
opposed  to  everything  God-like,  we  are  at  once  offended. 
No! — ministers  of  the  Gospel  can  do  nothing — or  at  least 
very  little — in  such  an  age  as  the  present;  all  we  can  hope 
is  that  a  change  is  coming — a  world's  catastrophe  maybe — 
when  '  the  one  shall  be  taken  and  the  other  left.'  " 

Thoughts  such  as  these  were  often  in  his  brain,  but  he 
gave  them  no  utterance.  Often  and  often  he  longed  to 
preach  in  a  way  that  he  had  never  yet  attempted — a  way 
that  should  rouse  apathy,  stimulate  energy,  and  awaken  con- 
science,— but  he  knew  very  well  that  if  he  spoke  '  with  the 
tongues  of  men  and  of  angels '  he  could  not  move  the  in- 
habitants of  Shadbrook  to  more  than  a  bovine  stare  and  dull 
smile.  And  half  afraid  of  the  combative  spirit  that  clamored 
to  utter  itself  through  his  lips,  he  retreated,  as  it  were,  fur- 
ther and  further  into  the  close  sanctuary  of  his  own  isolated 
and  reflective  mind,  there  to  do  battle  against  himself  and 
control  what  he  considered  were  the  freakish  fancies  of  an 
overwrought  imagination. 

And  so  the  days  and  weeks  went  on,  placidly  and  mo- 
notonously. The  Minchin  Brewery  still  prospered,  and 
the  proprietors  of  both  public-houses  in  Shadbrook  waxed 
fat  and  made  good  profit  out  of  an  increasingly  intemperate 
community.  The  little  Roman  Catholic  mission  progressed 
but  slowly, — there  were  barely  twenty  people  to  attend  Mass 
at  Sebastien  Douay's  '  tin  chapelle ' — but  he,  as  its  priest, 
was  never  disheartened  and  never  complained.  Full  of 
cheerfulness  and  energy,  his  dapper  figure  was  soon  a  fa- 
miliar object  in  the  Cotswold  villages,  and  he  was  always 
ready  to  assist  the  sick  and  poor,  whether  they  professed  his 
own  form  of  faith  or  not.  He  had  made  his  promised  at- 
tempt to  '  convert '  Dan  Kiernan,  but  his  efforts  were  wholly 
vain.  That  brutish  creature,  more  brutalized  by  drink  than 
ever,  was  not  as  he  himself  expressed  it  '  going  to  be  a 
damned  Pope's  penitent.'  Faithfully  and  patiently  Douay 
tried  his  honest  best  to  save  what  remnant  of  soul  there  was 


HOLY    ORDERS  195 

in  that  base  ton  of  material  man, — but  he  had  to  give  up 
the  task  at  last,  and  after  a  final  appeal  and  argument, 
which  had  nearly  ended  in  Dan's  mauling  him  with  blows 
in  the  public  street,  he  had  left  him  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
Mr.  Minchin.  Meeting  that  gentleman  by  chance  one  day, 
however,  he  was  bold  enough  to  stop  him  in  his  walk  and 
request  him  to  have  an  eye  on  Dan  Kiernan,  as  the  man 
was  '  dangerous.' 

Mr.  Minchin  stretched  his  wide  ugly  mouth  into  its  usual 
wolfish  grin. 

"Dangerous!"  he  echoed,  in  suave  tones — "Really!  I 
don't  quite  understand  you!  " 

"Do  you  not?  That  is  a  pity!"  And  the  little  priest 
planted  himself  still  more  firmly  across  the  path  along  which 
Mr.  Minchin  evinced  every  desire  to  proceed — "  For  you 
should  make  it  your  business  to  understand !  I  say  the  man 
is  dangerous, — dangerous  to  himself  and  to  everybody  else. 
He  has  no  brain  left — it  is  all  poison !  He  has  no  control  of 
himself — he  is  worse  than  a  brute  beast  at  night  when  he 
has  drunk  all  the  beer  you  give  him,  and  when  he  puts  raw 
spirit  on  the  top  of  the  beer!  Yes — that  is  so!  He  is  dan- 
gerous to  women — to  the  leetle  children — you  will  take  my 
word,  please! — and  I  say  that  if  he  do  something  of  terror 
— some  crime — some  shocking  wickedness,' — you,  Mr. 
Minchin,  will  be  as  much  to  blame  as  he  is — if  not  morel 
Yes — you!  No  one  else!  You!" 

And  lifting  his  hat  in  an  elaborate  salute,  Douay  went 
on  his  way,  outwardly  calm  but  inwardly  trembling  in 
every  nerve  with  the  force  of  his  own  indignation.  Minchin 
looked  after  him  and  laughed  softly.  He  never  laughed 
loudly.  His  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  a  pauper  bar- 
onet compelled  him  to  try  and  seem  well-bred  despite  his 
low  origin. 

"These  religious  fools!"-  he  said  half  aloud — "Always 
cowards — the  whole  lot  of  them — Catholics,  Protestants, 
Baptists,  Methodists  and  all!  That  little  priestly  ass  is 
afraid  of  Kiernan — positively  afraid  of  poor  old  Dan!  One 
of  my  best  hands  too — and  I  like  him !  "  Here  he  gave  an 
eel-like  writhe  of  his  body  which  was  a  movement  peculiar 
to  him  in  moments  of  self-satisfaction.  "  I  like  him !  He 
hates  the  Vicar  of  Shadbrook  as  much  as  I  do — and  for  that 


196  HOLY     ORDERS 

reason  only,  if  he  were  drunk  every  minute  of  every  day 
and  night,  I'd  keep  him  on!" 

Whereby  it  will  be  seen  that  the  advocates  of  the  cause 
of  temperance  in  the  Cotswold  villages  immediately  adja- 
cent to  the  Minchin  Brewery  were  not  likely  to  meet  with 
much  encouragement  in  their  efforts  to  save  the  souls  and 
bodies  of  men. 

Yet  the  people  went  to  church  regularly  enough  in  all 
their  own  little  scattered  parishes,  and  Richard  Everton's 
congregation,  though  it  had  fallen  off  for  a  few  weeks  imme- 
diately after  Jennie  Kiernan's  death,  rallied  together  again 
in  due  course  and  resumed  its  normal  aspect.  But  the  most 
sanguine  onlooker  could  never  have  said  that  it  was  either 
a  devout  or  deeply  attentive  congregation.  The  chief  inter- 
est of  the  villagers  appeared  to  be  centered  on  Mrs.  Everton 
— her  looks,  her  manners,  and,  more  than  all,  her  dress. 
They  attended  the  church  to  see  her,  much  as  the  stalls  and 
dress  circle  people  attend  certain  plays  merely  to  see  the 
costumes.  She  was  the  principal  attraction,  and  everything 
and  everybody  seemed  to  wait  for  her  on  Sundays, — even 
the  Church  service  itself.  The  organist  never  began  to  play 
the  opening  voluntary  till  one  of  the  small  choir  boys,  sent 
out  as  scout,  returned  to  him  with  the  information  that  Mrs. 
Everton  was  '  just  a-cominV  Her  slight,  pretty  figure, 
always  daintily  clothed — her  beautiful  hair,  always  massed 
in  twists  and  curls  that  shone  like  burnished  gold, — her  fair 
face,  with  the  dark  blue  eyes  always  demurely  downcast  as 
she  entered  and  walked  noiselessly  up  the  aisle, — all  these 
charms  were  subject  for  comment,  and  ill-natured  comment, 
too,  on  the  part  of  the  Shadbrook  rustics,  who  were  as  spite- 
ful and  cruel  as  most  semi-educated  provincial  folk  are  who 
only  see  two  ways  of  existence,  namely,  '  doing '  people  and 
being  '  done '  by  them.  The  village  grocer's  girl,  a  young 
feminine  scarecrow  with  projecting  teeth  and  a  snub  nose, 
tossed  her  head  at  the  lovely  goldilocks  of  the  Vicar's  wife, 
saying  she  never  did  see  such  '  dyed  'air  and  fo'rapudence.' 
The  '  young  '  lady  at  the  bar  of  the  '  Stag  and  Crow  '  public- 
house,  who  had  once  in  the  long-ago  been  honored  by  the 
kisses  of  Mr.  Minchin  himself,  before  he  married  the  pauper 
baronet's  daughter,  remarked  that  '  the  wicked  extravagance 
of  Mrs.  Everton  was  that  shameful  that  she  wondered  how 


HOLY    ORDERS  197 

the  Vicar  could  stand  it ! — she  did  indeed ! '  The  carpenter's 
niece,  fat,  sallow  and  ungainly,  but  who  despite  these  draw- 
backs was  understood  to  be  engaged  to  a  Cheltenham  tailor 
of  distinction,  sighed  gently  and  opined  that  her  Tom 
'  wouldn't  look  at  a  woman  who  got  up  her  eyes  and  painted 
her  cheeks  like  that  for  ever  so ! ' 

Poor  little  Azalea,  quite  unconscious  of  the  small  fires  of 
envy,  hatred  and  all  uncharitableness  which  were  smoldering 
around  her  in  their  coarse  and  common  breasts,  imagined 
that  her  husband's  parishioners  liked  to  see  her  well-dressed, 
and  that,  by  making  herself  look  as  bright  and  charming  as 
possible,  she  was  creating  a  favorable  impression.  She  never 
thought  that,  on  the  contrary,  if  she  had  clothed  herself  like 
a  frump,  brushed  her  hair  straight,  and  covered  the  charm- 
ing contour  of  her  well-shaped  little  body  with  an  ill-cut 
cloak,  she  would  have  been  much  less  harshly  judged.  A 
pretty  woman  is  always  an  object  of  suspicion  to  the  plain 
majority — and  when  she  adds  elegant  attire  to  the  attrac- 
tions of  form  and  feature,  she  is  still  more  quickly  and  ut- 
terly condemned.  Of  course  Azalea  readily  divined  that  she 
was  not  popular  with  the  Shadbrook  villagers,  and  in  the 
real  regret  which  she  inwardly  felt  for  the  unfortunate  end 
of  hard-working,  heart-broken  Jennie  Kiernan,  she  tried  her 
gentle  best  to  soften  and  remove  the  feeling  which  some  of 
the  people,  influenced  by  the  drunken  raving  of  Dan,  ap- 
peared to  cherish  against  her.  But  her  timid  efforts  were 
entirely  misjudged, — they  merely  thought  that  she  was  try- 
ing to  '  eat  humble  pie '  and  '  curry  favor '  with  them,  and 
while  outwardly  respectful  to  her  in  her  presence,  they 
mocked  at  her  behind  her  back.  Gradually  discovering  this, 
and  resenting  it  with  all  the  force  of  a  spirit  which,  though 
essentially  feminine,  was  proud  to  a  fault,  she  presently 
ceased  to  visit  the  people  at  all,  and  lived  in  her  own  home 
like  a  bird  in  a  cage,  avoiding  the  village  as  much  as  possible 
in  all  her  walks  and  drives. 

"  It's  no  use," — she  said,  shaking  her  little  head  mourn- 
fully one  day  when  her  husband  ventured  tenderly  to  remon- 
strate with  her  on  the  way  in  which  she  was  isolating  her- 
self from  his  parishioners — "  It's  no  use,  Dick!  The  people 
don't  like  me,  and  I'm  afraid  I  don't  like  them!  I've  never 
done  them  any  harm,  and  I  -wanted  to  love  them  all  and  be 


198  HOLY     ORDERS 

a  friend  to  them,  only  they  wouldn't  and  won't  let  me.  And 
I  feel — oh,  I  feel  that  they  just  hate  me  because  I'm  not  a 
proper  sort  of  clergyman's  wife!  I'm  not!  You  know  I'm 
not !  To  begin  with — I'm  not  tall  enough !  "  Here  she 
broke  into  a  merry  laugh,  but  there  was  a  glisten  as  of 
tears  in  her  eyes.  "  No, — don't  make  fun  of  me,  Dick! — I'm 
not,  really !  A  proper  wife  for  a  clergyman  ought  to  be  tall 
and  angular, — her  figure  ought  to  darken  the  cottage  doors 
— positively  darken  them,  Dick! — and  she  ought  always  to 
wear  tweed  costumes  and  '  spats '  in  muddy  weather.  Now, 
I  look  simply  awful  in  tweeds,  and  my  feet  and  ankles 
would  all  go  to  nothing  in  spats — they're  not  big  enough 
or  thick  enough.  Then  she  certainly  oughtn't  to  have  curly 
hair — it  ought  to  be  the  kind  that  always  looks  wet  near  the 
temples,  and  it  ought  to  show  quite  recent  marks  of  the 
comb  through  it,  as  if  it  had  just  been  plowed!  You  know! 
And  a  good  long  nose  is  a  great  advantage — a  nose  that's 
thin  at  the  end  and  a  little  bit  red  and  scrubby, — because 
then  it  looks  as  if  it  had  been  poking  and  poking  into  kitchens 
and  cupboards,  as  a  clergyman's  wife's  nose  ought  to  poke, — 
and  does  poke,  pretty  often!  "  She  laughed  again,  and  put 
her  little  hand  coaxingly  under  his  chin.  "  Don't  be  angry 
with  my  nonsense,  Dick! — but  you  can't  say  that  you  know 
any  other  clergyman  with  a  wife  like  me  ?  " 

"  No,  that  I  can't !  "  and  he  caught  the  small  caressing 
hand  in  his  own  and  kissed  it — "  That's  a  fact,  Azalea !  I 
don't  know  any  man  of  my  calling  who  has  a  wife  so  pretty, 
so  dainty,  so  sweet,  and  quaint  and  dear " 

"  Hush — hush !  "  she  said,  and  her  bright  face  suddenly 
clouded — "  I  don't  like  you  to  praise  me,  Dick — I'm  not 
worth  it — I'm  so  useless  to  you." 

"  Useless!  "  he  exclaimed — •"  Useless,  Azalea?  " 

"  Yes !  "  She  smiled  at  him,  but  her  eyes  were  wistful — 
"Quite  useless,  dear!  Really,  I  am.  I'm  only — well! — 
just  pretty.  I  am  pretty — that's  the  worst  of  it.  It's  so  un- 
fortunate! Because  I'm  the  only  pretty  person  in  the  place! 
I  wish  there  was  another  one  to  divide  the  uncomfortable 
honor  with  me.  But  there's  no  one  now  since  " — here  she 
hesitated  a  second — "  since  Jacynth  Miller  went  away — and 
she — she  was  not  pretty — she  was  beautiful." 

He  was  silent. 


HOLY    ORDERS  ,199 

"  I  hear," — Azalea  went  on — "  that  she  has  gone  on  the 
stage.  Do  you  think  that's  true  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  it  was  very  likely,"  he  answered. 

A  pause  followed.    Then  Azalea  sighed  profoundly. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said — "  whether  all  very  beautiful  women 
are  wicked  ?  " 

Richard  smiled  down  upon  the  fair  face  very  tenderly — 

"  Let  us  hope  not,  darling !  "  he  replied — "  But  in  many 
cases  the  gift  of  great  beauty  seems  to  bring  the  worst  kind 
of  temptation  in  its  train •" 

"  Temptation  to  do  what?  "  she  asked. 

"  Temptation  to  make  the  basest  uses  of  it !  "  and  his 
gentle  voice  grew  suddenly  cold  and  stern — "  To  snare  and 
captivate  and  torture  the  souls  of  men  to  their  own  eternal 
shame  I  That  is  what  Jacynth  Miller  has  begun  to  do, — 
that  is  what  she  will  continue  to  do  till  the  end  of  her  days — 
unless " 

"  Unless — what  ?  "  And  his  wife's  eyes  were  full  of  a 
vague  wonder  as  she  put  the  question.  He  answered  in 
accents  of  tense  passion  such  as  he  himself  was  unaware  of. 

"  Unless  God  intervenes!  Unless  God  Himself  cuts  short 
her  career  before  she  ruins  too  many  lives !  " 

"  Why,  Dick !  "  Azalea  exclaimed,  in  open  surprise — "  I 
had  no  idea  you  felt  so  deeply  about  it!  Then  you  do  at 
last  agree  with  me  that  she  was — and  is — a  hopelessly  bad 
girl?" 

"Yes,  of  course  I  agree  with  you!"  he  replied,  with  a 
touch  of  bitterness — "  I  agree  with  you  that  she  was,  and 
is  hopelessly  bad,  Azalea!  And  I  don't  know  why  we  think 
of  her — or  speak  of  her.  I  would  rather  not.  I  don't  want 
to  be  un-Christian  in  my  judgment — but  I  fear  that  even  if 
she  is  not  so  now,  she  is  likely  to  be  one  of  the  worst  and 
most  dangerous  women  ever  born !  " 

He  spoke  in  a  thrilling  tone  of  suppressed  anger,  which 
even  to  his  little  wife  seemed  strange. 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  quite  lately  about  her  then, 
Dick  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  met  her  inquiring  look  fully  and  frankly. 

"  I  have  heard  nothing  at  all,  my  dear," — he  said,  more 
quietly — "  Nothing.  And  it  is  not  likely  that  I  shall  ever 
hear." 


200  HOLY     ORDERS 

His  manner  implied  that  he  wished  the  subject  dropped, 
and  Azalea  did  not  pursue  it. 

In  the  short  space  of  little  more  than  two  years  long  ages 
seemed  to  have  rolled  away  since  the  Kiernan  affair,  which, 
however,  was  as  fresh  in  the  mind  of  every  inhabitant  of 
Shadbrook  as  though  it  had  only  just  occurred.  Dan  himself 
never  allowed  it  to  be  forgotten, — Dan,  who  had  become  a 
veritable  demon  in  his  drink,  never  ceased  declaiming  the 
story  of  what  he  conceived  to  be  his  wrongs  and  his  injuries 
to  whomsoever  would  listen  to  his  ravings — and  as  every- 
thing he  said  was  always  repeated  with  exaggerations,  the 
whole  district  for  miles  round  was  affected  by  a  vague  dis- 
trust and  dislike  of  the  Evertons  and  gave  them  what  is 
called  the  cold  shoulder.  People  said :  "  Oh  no !  There 
was  nothing  exactly  against  them — but  Mrs.  Everton  was  a 
mischievous  woman — one  could  not  be  too  careful !  "  And 
again : — "  It  was  always  a  mistake  for  a  parson  te  meddle 
too  much  with  his  parishioners — and  Mr.  Everton  was 
rather  officious  in  that  way;  and  his  wife  was — well,  really, 
such  a  very  conceited  little  person !  "  And  so  on,  and  so  on, 
with  that  spread  of  little  trickling  nothings  which  are  like 
the  outpouring  of  a  sewer  from  diseased  and  dirty  minds — 
little  nothings  which  are  far  more  wicked  than  open  slander, 
because  they  cannot  be  proved  sufficiently  to  the  law  to  meet 
with  the  law's  punishment.  To  say  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Minchin  did  not  aid  and  abet  Dan  Kiernan  in  his  congenial 
task  of  making  it  difficult  for  Richard  Everton  and  his  wife 
to  live  pleasantly  in  Shadbrook,  would  be  to  underrate  their 
undoubtedly  great  abilities.  No  two  people  ever  lived  who 
more  honestly  enjoyed  the  business  of  injuring  others — and 
even  as  Mr.  Minchin  delighted  in  poisoning  beer,  so  Mrs. 
Minchin  delighted  in  poisoning  reputations.  This  virtuous 
couple,  however,  went  to  church  regularly — not  Shadbrook 
Church,  but  another  more  modern  one,  with  a  '  High  '  ritual, 
situated  nearer  to  the  Minchin  Brewery, — and  they  were 
also  regular  communicants.  Respectability  sat  enthroned 
on  their  smug  brows, — who  could  doubt  the  honesty  of  Mr. 
Minchin,  with  his  capacious  smile  and  wolfish  eye?  Who 
could  suspect  the  sincerity  of  Mrs.  Minchin's  loud  laugh  and 
frankly  large  feet?  No  one! — that  is,  no  one  who  was  em- 
ployed by  the  Brewery,  or  connected  with  the  Brewery. 


HOLY    ORDERS  201 

Other  folks  who  did  not  depend  on  Brewery  references  and 
had  not  borrowed  Brewery  money,  were  less  constrained  in 
opinion.  Mrs.  Minchin  was  something  of  a  '  cat,'  they  were 
wont  to  observe, — and  Mr.  Minchin  himself  was  a  hypocrite. 
They  did  not  believe  Mrs.  Everton  was  such  a  '  horrid 
creature '  as  Mrs.  Minchin  made  her  out  to  be.  She  was 
too  pretty  and  too  fascinating — these  were  her  chief  faults. 
But  the  consensus  of  provincial  feeling  being  always  dis- 
tinctly dead  against  pretty  women  wherever  they  are,  Mrs. 
Everton  remained  outside  the  pale  of  general  approval,  and 
had  as  many  enemies  as  though  she  were  a  world's  reformer. 
And  the  frivolous  little  creature  grew  quieter,  paler  and 
thinner,  less  buoyant  of  step,  less  radiant  of  smile, — and  con- 
centrated all  the  pent-up  playful  tenderness  of  her  nature 
more  and  more  upon  her  home,  her  husband  and  her  child. 
'  Baby  dear '  was  indeed  the  very  core  of  her  existence ;  she 
adored  him  and  spoiled  him  as  much  as  he  could  be  spoiled, 
which  was  not  so  very  much  after  all.  He  had  a  rather 
remarkable  character  of  his  own,  and  commanded  himself  as 
well  as  others  in  a  firm  yet  perfectly  undemonstrative  way. 
He  was  tall  for  his  age,  and  had  an  angelic  dignity  of  look 
and  manner  far  exceeding  his  years; — so  much  so  that  the 
very  servants  who  ministered  to  his  needs  spoke  of  him  with 
a  certain  wondering  respect.  He  was  '  Master  Laurence ' 
with  every  one  now, — it  was  only  his  mother  who  still  per- 
sisted in  calling  him  '  Baby  dear.'  One  day  he  looked  at  her 
smilingly  as  though  she  were  a  baby  herself,  and  said  in  his 
yet  imperfect  English: 

"  Me  not  baby.    Me  man !  " 

And  Azalea  laughed. 

"You  darling!"  she  exclaimed — "But  you  are  a  baby! 
Yes,  you  are !  My  baby ! "  And  then,  some  inexplicable 
emotion  seizing  her,  she  pressed  the  little  fellow's  fair  head 
to  her  bosom — "  My  baby !  "  she  repeated,  and  tears  sprang 
to  her  eyes — "  Oh,  my  little  pet!  Don't  grow  a  man  too 
soon!  Don't,  darling!  You  are  so  sweet  as  you  are!" 

He  felt  a  warm  drop  on  his  face  and  put  up  his  tiny 
hand  to  feel  her  cheek. 

"  Muzzer  kyin' !  "  he  said,  gravely — "  Muzzer  too  pitty 
to  ky.  Me  go  tell  Dad."  And  he  tried  to  wriggle  off  her 
knee.  She  caught  and  held  him  fast. 


202  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  No,  dear — don't  tell  Dad.  Dad  wouldn't — wouldn't 
understand.  Mothers  pften  cry." 

He  studied  her  with  a  serious,  silent  intentness.  She  saw 
herself  mirrored  in  the  depths  of  his  large,  wondering,  inno- 
cent blue  eyes,  and  all  suddenly  a  great  vista  seemed  opening 
before  her  in  the  possible  future  life  of  the  child  she  had 
brought  into  the  world.  What  would  he  be?  What  career 
lay  before  him  when  his  childhood  was  over,  his  young  ideals 
crushed  out  of  him  in  a  public  school  and  his  nature  forced 
and  flattened  into  the  formal  and  uniform  shape  demanded 
by  purely  conventional  education?  A  faint  shudder  ran 
through  her  and  she  sighed.  She  had  accustomed  herself  to 
thinking  lately — and  thinking  was  hard  work.  Moreover  it 
did  not  agree  with  her. 

"  There's  time  yet," — she  said  to  herself — "  I  shan't  lose 
him  quite  immediately — and  perhaps  Dick  won't  send  him 
to  a  public  school,  after  all — perhaps — oh,  a  thousand  things 
may  happen !  "  And,  with  a  surprised  laugh  at  herself  for 
her  own  unusual  gravity,  she  kissed  her  '  Baby  dear '  over 
and  over  again,  and  said  to  him: 

"  You  are  baby !  Mother's  very  own  baby !  Now  and 
always !  " 

And  little  Laurence,  seeing  her  smile  at  him,  smiled  also, 
and  repeated  gravely  with  an  infinitely  sweet  content: 

"  Now  and  alwiss !  " 


CHAPTER  XII 

THERE  came  a  wonderful  month  of  April  on  the  Cots- 
wolds — an  April  all  blue  skies  and  sunshine  and  warm 
airs — an  April  that  no  one  in  the  neighborhood  ever 
forgot,  for  reasons  more  significant  than  even  the  fine 
weather,  which  of  itself  was  unusual  and  remarkable.  It 
was  just  such  a  spring-time  as  Richard  Everton  loved,  when 
the  fields  overran  themselves  with  buttercups  and  daisies — 
when  violets  came  out  in  thick  scented  clusters  under  the 
greenly  sprouting  hedges,  and  blue-bells  sprang  up  in  the 
moist  recesses  of  the  woods,  thrusting  their  dark  blue  spikes 
aloft  ready  to  burst  into  bell-like  blossom.  Azalea  declared 
it  was  the  loveliest  April  she  had  ever  known,  and  she  her- 
self expanded  with  its  cheering  influence,  like  a  rose  unfurl- 
ing its  bright  heart  to  the  sun.  On  Shadbrook  village  and 
all  the  district  around  it,  the  influences  of  a  warm  season 
made  an  almost  miraculous  difference, — cottages  that  had 
for  months  looked  bare  and  squalid,  became  transformed  as 
if  by  magic  into  picturesque  little  bowers  of  verdure,  with 
the  glossy  green  leaves  and  cream-yellow  buds  of  the  hardy 
climbing  Dijon  rose  twisting  and  twining  itself  up  to  the 
very  chimneys,  while  on  all  the  outlying  moors  and  in  all 
the  adjacent  woodlands,  a  perfect  wealth  of  wild  blossoms 
sprouted  up  through  the  last  year's  withered  leaves  and  filled 
the  air  with  delicious  odor.  The  Vicarage  garden  became  a 
paradise  of  floral  beauty, — great  clumps  of  lilac  and  la- 
burnum vied  with  each  other  in  displaying  the  richest  and 
brightest  quantity  of  bloom, — the  borders  blazed  with  hya- 
cinths and  tulips, — and  in  a  warm  corner  where  the  sunshine 
stayed  longest,  thousands  of  crocuses  blew  asunder  their 
transparent  vestures  and  swayed  to  and  fro  among  the  green 
grass  like  fairy  dancers  tripping  it  in  a  carnival  of  color. 
This  golden  opening  of  the  year  was,  when  fine  weather 
came  with  it,  the  Vicar's  happiest  time—for  his  pretty  wife 
sparkled  into  new  animation  with  the  brightness  of  Nature, 
and  both  she  and  little  Laurence,  inseparable  "Companions, 

203 


204  HOLY     ORDERS 

were  always  roaming  about  the  grounds  together,  Azalea 
enjoying  her  small  son's  games  at  ball  and  humming-top 
with  as  much  zest  as  though  she  were  herself  a  child.  Often 
and  often  when  writing  his  sermon,  Richard  would  lay  down 
his  pen  and  watch  them  from  his  window,  and  smile  as  the 
sound  of  their  gay  laughter  reached  him  in  the  seclusion  of 
his  study, — and  he  would  silently  thank  God  for  their  be- 
loved and  beautiful  lives.  He  had,  of  late,  as  has  already 
been  said,  resigned  himself  to  the  general  dullness  of  Shad- 
brook,  and  to  the  '  tone '  adopted  towards  him  by  his  pa- 
rishioners, and  if  ever  the  lurking  demons  of  ambition  or  dis- 
content stirred  within  him,  he  made  swift  attack  upon  them 
and  drove  them  back  into  their  lair. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  wish  for,"  he  would  say  to  himself, 
with  emphasis — "  Nothing  to  regret — nothing  to  desire.  I 
am  content.  Indeed,  I  am  more  than  content, — I  am  happy." 

He  impressed  this  fact  often  and  often  upon  Sebastien 
Douay,  who  persisted  in  considering  Shadbrook  '  limited  '  as 
a  life's  outlook.  But  whenever  he  thus  touched  on  the  sub- 
ject the  little  priest  smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  anything  was  to  be  done  with  the  people,  I  would  say 
with  you  that  to  be  here  is  happiness," — he  declared — "  But 
see  you!  All  the  Saints  and  angels  and  archangels  could 
not  move  them  to  understand  so  much  as  one  leetle  bit  of 
the  cause  and  the  need  of  religion.  No!  I  will  tell  you 
one  thing.  And  I  say  the  same  for  myself  as  for  you.  If 
in  the  middle  of  Holy  Mass  there  was  news  brought  to  my 
congregation  that  a  pigsty  was  on  fire,  every  one  would  run 
out  of  the  church !  Yes !  Think  you  then  they  can  believe 
in  God  when  they  would  leave  His  service  for  a  burning 
pigsty?  No!  But  see  again!  If  they  were  all  drinking 
beer  at  Minchin's  expense  and  some  one  came  to  them  with 
the  same  pigsty  alarm  they  would  not  go!  No!  Not  till 
they  had  finished  the  beer!" 

"  Well !  "  and  Everton  smiled  Tather  sadly — "  Would  it 
not  be  the  same  everywhere  else?  In  London,  Paris  or  New 
York?  Every  man  has  his  own  special  pigsty  which  he 
seeks  to  protect  above  all  things.  My  dear  friend,  my  un- 
fortunate experience  is  that  most  men  will  leave  God  for 
anything  that  immediately  and  materially  concerns  their 
present  selves.  Shadbrook  is  no  worse  than  other  places 


HOLY    ORDERS  205 

in  this  regard.  Wherever  I  went  I  should  find  no  better 
parishioners " 

"  You  would  find  many  more  agreeable  to  live  with," — 
returned  Douay — "  And  you  might  be  able  to  speak  to 
people  who  at  least  would  comprehend ! " 

Everton  shook  his  head. 

"  Does  any  one  comprehend  ? "  he  asked  wistfully — 
"  Would  you  swear  that  any  one  has  ever  comprehended  the 
Glory  of  the  Unseen  ?  That  Glory  which  all  our  Churches 
feebly  try  to  symbolize  ? — a  Glory  you  and  I  feel,  but  cannot 
put  into  words  ?  " 

He  spoke  with  emotion.  Douay  looked  at  him  sym- 
pathetically. 

"  You  should  have  been  a  monk,  my  excellent  friend !  " 
he  said,  with  a  genial  smile — "  You  should  have  lived  long 
ago,  in  the  ages  of  faith,  in  one  of  the  quiet  gray  monasteries 
where  the  beautiful  sculptured  cloisters  permit  the  sunlight 
and  moonlight  to  scatter  through  their  arches  bright  glimpses 
of  heaven — you  should  have  had  visions,  and  dreamed  dreams 
like  St.  Anthony  of  Padua — and  you  would  have  embraced 
the  Divine  Infant  and  seen  the  Holy  Grail!  Yes — you 
should  have  been  a  monk — or  another  Galahad !  " 

A  pale  flush  crept  up  to  the  Vicar's  brows. 

"  No — I  have  nothing  of  a  Galahad  in  me," — he  said — 
"  I  am  quite  a  commonplace  man — just  an  ordinary  country 
parson, — there  are  hundreds  of  us  living  our  lives  in  little 
out-of-the-way  moss-grown  English  villages,  like  tortoises  in 
old  gardens.  We  crawl  along  in  accustomed  grooves  and 
sleep  in  the  warm  sun, — while  out  in  the  dusty  high-roads  of 
the  world  our  Divine  Master  is  being  tried,  condemned,  and 
crucified  in  shame  a  second  time!  And  we  do  nothing — 
nothing!  " 

His  voice  shook — his  hand  trembled;  he  was  profoundly 
moved. 

"  My  good  Richard,"  said  Douay  gently — "  I  believe  you 
are  truly  a  faithful  lover  of  Our  Lord !  I  believe  you  would 
sacrifice  your  very  life  for  Him — even  in  these  days!  " 

"  Even  in  these  days  I  would," — Everton  answered — "  But 
I  am  not  found  worthy." 

Many  a  time  they  reverted  to  this  kind  of  intimate  and 
serious  conversation,  and  found  in  the  exchange  of  each 


206  HOLY     ORDERS 

other's  thoughts  and  ideals  a  singularly  comforting  sympathy. 
Everton  soon  learned  that  the  good  little  priest's  devotion 
to  his  Church  was  neither  narrow  nor  bigoted,  but  broadly 
simple  and  loyally  obedient.  His  views  were,  that  as  by 
far  the  greater  majority  of  humankind  are  ignorant,  material- 
istic, selfish  and  superstitious,  it  was  well  that  there  should 
be  a  Church,  made  mystic  and  powerful  by  the  claims  of 
ancient  history  and  accumulated  legend,  that  should  hold 
that  greater  majority  in  its  grip,  and  move  them  to  salutary 
fear  by  its  judgments. 

"  If  all  men  were  philosophers,  as'tronomers  and  scientists," 
he  said  one  day — "  it  would  be  a  different  matter.  If  every 
human  being  were  so  deeply  cultured  and  thoughtful  as  to 
be  able  to  follow  and  study  the  intricate  workings  of  nature, 
and  the  magnificent  order,  physical,  material  and  spiritual  of 
the  Universe,  there  would  be  no  need  for  any  church  at  all. 
God  would  be  made  manifest  in  His  Creation, — Christ's 
mission  would  be  fulfilled,  and  the  '  Kingdom  '  for  which 
we  pray  '  Come  ' — would  have  arrived.  But  no ! — this  will 
never  be.  And  why?  Because  it  is  not  intended  to  be. 
The  big  mass  of  ignorance  must  always  be  there.  Without 
it  there  would  be  no  stimulus  for  wise  men.  And  for  this 
great  mass,  my  Church  with  its  pretty  legends,  and  its  wor- 
ship of  womanhood  in  the  person  of  the  Virgin  Mary — and 
its  admiration  of  ideal  virtues  as  in  the  honor  paid  to  Saints, 
is  a  picturesque  means  of  raising  the  brutish  mind  to  a  leetle 
higher  than  the  brute.  That  is  all  I  say." 

Everton  did  not  contest  these  points  with  his  friend,  for 
he  felt  there  was  some  sense  in  the  arguments  propounded. 
Lack  of  '  ideals  ' — lack  of  all  devout  feeling  or  enthusiasm  for 
the  service  of  Christ  was  plainly  evinced  among  the  rustic 
people  whom  it  was  his  task  to  spiritually  control, — and  he 
had  found  that  the  conventional  setting  forth  of  the  orthodox 
doctrines  of  Original  Sin  and  the  Divine  Atonement  was  to 
them  what  they  called  '  muddlesome ' — and  if  it  brought 
them,  out  of  habit,  to  church  on  Sundays,  it  certainly  did 
not  keep  them  away  from  the  public-house  on  week-days. 
But  he  plodded  on  patiently  in  his  round  of  duty, — resigned, 
yet  hopeful  that  perhaps  a  time  would  come  when  the  Power 
that  had  called  him  into  being  and  placed  him  in  his  par- 
ticular position,  would  show  him  what  use  his  life  could 


HOLY    ORDERS  207 

be  in  a  world  already  too  full  of  preachers  and  teachers 
whose  efforts,  for  the  most  part,  seem  to  be  in  vain. 

In  the  middle  of  this  particularly  warm  and  dazzling 
month  the  little  Laurence  celebrated  his  fifth  birthday.  He 
was  growing  so  fast,  and  at  the  same  time  mastering  the  baby 
imperfections  of  his  speech  so  quickly  that  he  was  more  like 
a  boy  of  seven  or  eight  than  a  child  of  five.  He  had  begun 
to  read,  and  could  write  in  a  very  clear  large  round  hand, 
and  he  showed  an  eager  rapacity  for  books  of  all  kinds — 
books  with  and  without  pictures — books  full  of  long  words 
which  he  could  not  spell,  and  books  full  of  short  words  which 
he  learned  with  marvelous  ease  and  quickness.  People  said 
he  was  '  precocious,'  because  he  was  of  a  thoughtful  and 
serious  disposition,  though  he  could  be  merry  enough  when 
he  chose.  But  often  when  his  father  and  mother  were  talk- 
ing together,  they  would  find  him  listening  to  them  earnestly, 
with  a  line  of  close  attention  furrowed  on  his  brow,  and  his 
eyes  full  of  a  wistful  wonder.  He  seemed  to  be  always 
puzzling  over  things  beyond  his  comprehension — as  indeed 
he  was.  Once  he  asked  quite  suddenly — 

"  Mummy,  how  did  I  corned  here?" 

She  laughed. 

"  Darling,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  how  was  I  born'd  ?  " 

She  lifted  the  fair  inquiring  face  between  her  two  hands 
and  kissed  it. 

"  An  angel  brought  you  to  me  straight  from  Heaven ! " 
she  said. 

"Where's  the  angel  now?"  he  pursued. 

"  Gone  back  to  Heaven," — she  answered. 

"Where's  Heaven?" 

She  folded  her  arms  closely  round  him. 

"  It's  a  beautiful  world," — she  said — "  Where  God  lives. 
We  shall  all  go  there  some  day." 

"Will  you  go?" 

"I  hope  so!" 

"Soon?" 

She  was  a  little  startled. 

"  Well — not  quite  soon — perhaps," — she  murmured — "  I 
don't  want  to  leave  you  and  Dad " 

"  Couldn't  we  go  with  you  ?  " 


208  HOLY     ORDERS 

She  was  silent.  There  was  a  coldness  at  her  heart, — she 
was  thinking  how  hard  it  was,  how  cruelly  hard,  that  she — 
that  her  husband — and  that  her  beautiful  boy — should  all 
have  to  die!  Why  live  at  all,  why  love  at  all — if  only  to 
end  thus! 

"Couldn't  we?"  persisted  Laurence — "Let's  all  go  to 
God,  Mummy!  He  must  be  such  a  nice  man!  " 

Poor  Azalea  felt  very  uncomfortable,  and  her  cheeks 
reddened. 

"  Darling,  He's  not  a  man !  "  she  said  nervously. 

"Isn't  He?    What  is  He?" 

'*  I — I  can't  explain "  stammered  Azalea,  desperately. 

V  Can't  I  love  Him?" 

"  Yes," — and  she  caught  at  this  eagerly — "  Yes,  indeed, 
dear, — you  can  love  Him — you  must  love  Him !  " 

"Can  I  kiss  Him?" 

"  I — I — don't  know — oh,  Laurence,  you  mustn't  ask  me 
so  many  questions! " 

Laurence  looked,  as  he  felt,  bewildered. 

"  Well,  if  God  lives  in  a  beautiful  world  where  we're  all 
going,  and  is  nice  and  kind,  I  shall  kiss  Him !  "  he  said 
firmly,  "  Just  as  I  kiss  Dad.  He  would  like  me  to." 

Azalea  here  terminated  the  conversation  abruptly.  It  was 
becoming  too  great  a  strain  on  her  mind. 

One  afternoon,  after  many  hours  spent  in  superintending 
the  planting  and  arranging  of  fresh  beds  of  flowers  with  the 
gardener,  an  old  man  who  took  considerable  delight  in 
*  wasting  his  time  with  the  missus '  as  he  termed  his  labors 
under  Azalea's  direction,  the  pretty  little  woman  ran  into 
her  husband's  study  like  a  vision  from  fairyland,  clad  in 
diaphanous  white,  a  becoming  big  straw  hat  tied  under  her 
chin  with  a  blue  ribbon,  and  a  picturesque  brown  rush  basket 
swinging  on  her  arm. 

"  I  suppose  you're  too  busy  to  come  out  primrosing  with 
me?"  she  said. 

He  laid  down  his  pen,  rose  from  his  desk,  and  surveyed 
her  with  admiring  tenderness. 

"  How  lovely  you  look!  "  he  exclaimed — "  What  a  pretty 
frock!  And  that  hat!  Why,  Azalea,  you  are  positively 
bewitching  to-day !  " 

She  laughed  with  pleasure. 


HOLY    ORDERS  209 

"  It's  only  cheap  muslin," — she  said,  with  a  condescending 
downward  glance  at  the  dainty  frills  and  flounces  of  her 
dress,  "  But  I  had  it  made  as  though  it  were  quite  expen- 
sive— as  though  it  had  come  from  Paris!  That's  the  art  of 
it,  Dick! — pure  trickiness!  And  I  trimmed  the  hat  myself." 

"And  you're  going  primrosing?"  he  queried,  fondly 
drawing  her  into  his  arms — "With  Laurence?" 

"  No,  Laurence  has  been  playing  about  all  day,  and  he's 
just  going  to  have  his  tea.  I  thought  you  might  perhaps  like 
to  come  out  with  me?  " 

"  I'll  come  with  pleasure  if  you  wish  it,  darling," — he 
answered — "  But — if  you  didn't  mind — I  rather  wanted  to 
finish  what  I'm  about " 

"  Sunday's  sermon  ?  "  she  queried,  with  a  playful  arching 
of  her  brows. 

He  nodded,  smiling. 

"  S.unday's  sermon !  I  think  I've  got  one  or  two  good 
suggestions  in  it." 

"Good  suggestions!  And  do  vou  think  the  Shadbrook 
people  will  care  for  them?  " 

"  That's  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  he  answered — "I  want  to 
give  comfort  if  I  can." 

She  took  a  rosebud  out  of  a  bunch  she  wore  pinned  at  her 
bosom  and  slipped  it  into  his  buttonhole. 

"  Do  you  know,  Dick,  I  find  more  comfort  in  this  beauti- 
ful warm  weather,  and  in  the  garden  and  the  woods  than  in 
all  the  sermons  ever  preached !  "  she  said,  laughingly — "  Even 
your  sermons  included !  Am  I  not  wicked  ?  " 

He  patted  the  small  white  hand  that  hovered  round  the 
rosebud  in  his  coat. 

"No,  not  wicked  at  all!"  he  declared — "If  I  were  a 
fanciful  instead  of  a  dull,  prosaic  man,  I  should  say  that  all 
the  sunbeams  and  blossoms  were  God's  own  '  sermons '  or 
hopeful  messages  to  sweet  women." 

"  That's  pretty !  "  and  she  smiled-^"  But  the  loveliest 
blossoms  soon  wither — and  so  do  the  women!  There's  not 
much  of  a  '  hopeful  message '  in  that  fact !  " 

"  Well,  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  you  wither!  "  he  said 
gayly,  and  he  kissed  the  charming  upturned  face — "  I  never 
saw  you  looking  better  than  you  do  to-day." 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  me  so  fascinating !  "  and  she  gave  him 


2io  HOLY     ORDERS 

a  demure  little  smile  and  curtsey — "  But  you  must  please 
understand  that  I  haven't  dressed  for  you,  sir!  Father 
Douay," — here  she  laughed — "  I  love  to  call  him  father! — is 
coming  to  dine  with  us." 

"  Oh,  is  that  it  ?  All  the  finery  is  for  him !  And  the 
primroses  too?  " 

"  Not  exactly  for  him — for  the  table," — she  answered — 
"  I've  made  a  pretty  green  silk  center,  and  I'm  going  to  ar- 
range primroses  all  round — heaps  of  primroses  just  fresh  out 
of  the  woods.  Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"I  see!"  and  still  smiling,  he  held  her  round  the  waist 
with  one  arm  and  looked  at  her  long  and  earnestly — "  You 
are  very  sweet,  Azalea!  "  he  said — "And  I  love  you  more 
and  more  every  day !  " 

"  Do  you?  "  she  murmured—"  Sure?  " 

"  Sure!  "  he  answered — "  I'm  not  jealous  of  Douay!  " 

"You've  no  cause  to  be!"  and  she  laughed  merrily. 
"  He's  only  just  a  dear  old  thing!  " 

"Just  a  dear  old  thing,  eh?"  echoed  Richard— "  Well, 
that's  expressive !  And  what  am  I  ?  " 

A  sudden  beautiful  tenderness  illumined  her  dark  blue 
eyes. 

"  You  are  my  husband," — she  said — "  My  husband,  my 
darling  and  my  best  in  the  whole  world !  That's  what  you 
are,  Dick !  "  And  she  stretched  herself  up  on  tiptoe  to  kiss 
him.  "  Oh  dear !  I  often  think  when  we're  all  in  church 
praying  to  God  to  take  us  to  heaven,  how  very  disagreeable  it 
would  be  to  have  to  die  and  leave  you  and  Laurence !  What's 
the  good  of  heaven  to  a  wife  who  has  left  her  husband  on 
earth?" 

"If  she  loved  her  husband  very  much,  it  might  seem 
lonely "  he  began  to  answer. 

"  It  wouldn't  seem — it  would  be  lonely," — she  interrupted 
him,  with  a  decisive  shake  of  her  fair  head — "  It  would  be 
simply  horrible !  For  instance,  suppose  it  were  me,  I  should 
want  you  all  the  time,  and  if  I  had  any  eyes  I  should  cry 
them  out  for  you  and  Laurence — I  know  I  should!  Now 
really,  Dick," — and  she  looked  very  serious — "  you  surely 
don't  think  heaven  could  be  a  true  heaven  with  no  one  in 
it  that  you  love?  Would  you  like  a  heaven  without  me?  " 

"  I'd    rather    go    to — the    other    place ! "    he    answered 


HOLY    ORDERS  211 

promptly — "  My  dear  child,  don't  bother  your  little  head 
with  these  ideas!  Go  and  gather  your  primroses  and  don't 
be  long!" 

"  You  won't  come?  " 

He  considered  a  minute,  and  glanced  at  his  watch.  It 
was  half-past  four. 

"Which  way  are  you  going?" 

"  Into  the  hazel  copse  and  the  little  wood  beyond." 

"  Won't  you  be  trespassing?  "  he  asked,  half  laughingly — 
"  Doesn't  the  little  wood  belong  to  Minchin  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  doesn't  matter," — she  answered  lightly — "  He 
can't  stop  the  public  right  of  way,  and  all  the  children  pick 
primroses  there." 

"  Well,  perhaps  I'll  come  and  meet  you  on  your  way  back," 
he  said — "  I  shall  have  finished  work  in  about  an  hour." 

"All  right!     Good-by!" 

"  Good-by  for  the  present !  " 

She  turned  to  leave  the  room  and  he  called  her  back 
again.  "Azalea!" 

"Yes,  Dick!" 

"  Can  you  spare  me  another  kiss?  " 

She  laughed,  and  ran  gayly  into  his  arms. 

"Sentimental  Dick!"  she  said — "You  are  always  like  a 
lover!  When  will  you  be  tired  of  me?" 

"  Never !  "  he  answered — "  Not  even,  '  when  the  sun 
grows  cold,  and  the  leaves  of  the  Judgment-book  unfold  '!  " 

She  shivered  a  little. 

"  Don't  talk  of  the  sun  growing  cold !  "  she  said — "  It 
seems  so  cruel  on  such  a  glorious  day !  " 

He  kissed  her,  and  let  her  go.  At  the  door  she  looked 
round  and  waved  her  hand. 

"Good-by!"  said  she. 

"Good-by,  darling!" 

He  seated  himself  anew  at  his  desk,  and  waited  a  minute 
or  two,  half  expecting  to  see  her  pass  the  study  window  on 
her  way  through  the  garden.  But  she  did  not  reappear. 
And  he  settled  his  mind  steadily  to  write,  evolving  many 
more  thoughts  as  he  worked  than  he  found  it  expedient  to 
set  down  for  the  benefit  of  the  Shadbrook  villagers,  who  cared 
little  for  anything  a  mere  '  parson  '  might  try  to  teach  them, 
and  understood  less. 


1212  HOLY     ORDERS 

Azalea  meanwhile  went  down  through  the  garden  and  out 
into  the  village  street,  from  thence  making  a  short  cut  by  the 
bridge  over  a  stile  and  across  a  field  into  a  little  thicket,  over- 
grown with  shrubs  and  brambles  and  carpeted  with  last  year's 
fallen  leaves,  through  which  the  yellow  tips  of  primrose-buds 
were  faintly  showing.  But  though  she  paused  here  for  a 
moment  looking  around  her,  she  did  not  linger,  because  this 
particular  copse  was  too  near  the  village,  and  she  knew  that 
the  Shadbrook  children  had  been  there  before  her,  plucking 
all  the  finest  and  fairest  blossoms.  She  walked  on  quickly 
for  about  half  a  mile,  and  then  began  to  climb  a  slight  ascent 
at  the  summit  of  which  were  extensive  patches  of  closely 
growing  wood,  spreading  upward  and  away  for  a  considera- 
ble distance,  and  here  between  the  network  of  branches, 
through  which  the  warm  afternoon  sunlight  flickered  in 
streaks  of  rosy  fire,  thousands  of  primroses  were  out  in  all 
their  fresh  beauty,  like  '  coins  from  the  mintage  of  the  Spring.' 
Throwing  off  her  hat  for  greater  ease,  and  also  out  of  a 
pardonably  vain  idea  that  the  sun  might  help  to  brighten 
the  already  bright  tints  of  her  hair,  she  began  to  pick  the 
flowers  leisurely,  putting  them  together  in  dainty  bunches  and 
singing  softly  in  her  sweet  small  voice  as  she  moved  from 
one  fragrant  cluster  to  another,  and  unconsciously  strolling 
higher  and  higher  up  through  the  woods,  and  further  and 
further  from  Shadbrook: 

"Dere's  a  breakin'  in  de  clouds  an'  de  stars  am  showin', 
Oh,  meet  me  in  de  corn  when  de  wind  am  blowin' ! " 

She  hummed  the  old  '  coon  '  song  under  her  breath  as  she 
bent  over  the  bright  primroses,  and  then  with  a  quantity  of 
them  in  her  hands,  sat  down  among  the  dry  brown  leaves  to 
pack  them  more  closely  in  her  basket,  which  was  soon  more 
than  half  full.  A  warm,  soft  breeze  played  among  her  un- 
covered fair  locks  like  a  caress  from  heaven, — the  trill  of  an 
unseen  skylark  shook  the  air  with  melody — and  everywhere 
around  her  the  birds  were  calling  to  one  another  in  love-notes 
of  fresh  and  penetrating  sweetness.  She  made  a  perfect  pic- 
ture sitting  under  the  delicately  budding  boughs,  the  sunlight 
glinting  among  the  withered  leaves  that  covered  the  earth, 
turning  them  to  hues  of  copper  and  gold  at  her  feet;  and 


HOLY    ORDERS  213 

an  artist  would  have  been  glad  to  have  painted  her  as  a 
study  of  sweet  English  womanhood,  the  sister  and  fitting 
companion  of  the  sweet  English  spring. 

She  was  a  little  tired,  and  a  vague  sense  of  sadness  oppressed 
her.  It  was  all  very  lovely,  she  thought,  but  very  dull.  If 
Richard  could  have  come  out  with  her  she  would  have  en- 
joyed it  more. 

"  Poor  old  Dick !  "  she  sighed — "  It  must  be  horrid  to  have 
to  write  clever  sermons  for  people  who  don't  and  won't 
understand  them!  Oh  dear!  I  wonder  if  we  shall  have 
to  live  in  Shadbrook  always!  Fancy  the  long,  long  years 
going  by,  and  doing  nothing  for  us  except  wrinkling  us  with 
age  and  crippling  us  with  rheumatism!  Simply  dreadful! 
Yes,  you  dear  things !  "  and  she  apostrophized  the  primroses 
as  she  tied  them  up  in  bunches  with  some  soft  twine  she  had 
brought  for  the  purpose — "  You  don't  know  how  awful  it  is 
to  live  a  terrible  long  time,  trying  to  make  yourself  agreeable 
to  people  who  shut  their  hearts  against  you!  You  just  come 
out  and  bloom  in  the  woods  and  look  sweet,  and  fade  away 
quickly,  and  there's  an  end.  So  nice  for  you!  And  every- 
body likes  you — that's  the  best  of  it !  Nobody  hates  you  for 
being  pretty — nobody  is  unkind  to  you, — and  you  have  such 
a  lot  of  companions  that  you  can  never  be  lonely.  I'm  lonely. 
Yes,  I  ami — even  with  Dick  and  Laurence.  And  when 
Laurence  gets  older  and  goes  to  school,  and  Dick  gets  more 
serious  even  than  he  is  now,  I  shall  be  lonelier  than  ever.  I 
want — oh! — I  don't  know  what  I  want!" 

She  laughed  and  blinked  away  two  tears  that  had  risen  in 
her  pretty  eyes.  And  her  thoughts  reverted  to  a  recent 
rumor,  whispered  guardedly  among  the  gossips  of  the  village, 
which  was  to  the  effect  that  Jacynth  Miller  had  left  the 
'  variety '  stage,  and  had  made  a  '  grand  marriage '  with  a 
millionaire. 

"  I  wonder  if  it's  true!  "  she  mused — "And  if  it  is,  how 
strange  and  unjust  it  seems!  Fortune  seems  to  favor  the 
bad  and  punish  the  good.  I  don't  like  to  ask  Dick  if  he 
has  heard  anything  about  it — he  seems  to  hate  the  very 
mention  of  Jacynth  Miller's  name.  She  was  certainly  very 
beautiful." 

Here  she  dreamily  recalled  the  fact  that  the  last  time  she 
had  seen  Jacynth,  the  girl  had  worn  a  bunch  of  primroses 


214  HOLY     ORDERS 

at  her  throat.  The  remembrance  was  not  pleasant,  and 
she  looked  down  almost  vexedly  at  the  blossoms  she  had 
gathered. 

"  Ah  well,  she  doesn't  wear  primroses  now !  "  she  said — 
"  It's  three  years  since  she  left  Shadbrook,  and  I  daresay 
she  has  plenty  of  jewels  by  this  time.  Bad  folks  get  the 
best  things!  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why!  And  it  is  horrid 
to  think  that  the  worse  the  woman  is,  the  luckier  she 
seems!  " 

Her  lips  parted,  and  she  began  to  sing  an  old  Devonshire 
song  of  which  her  father  used  to  be  fond. 

"There  stood  a  gardener  at  the  gate, 

And  in  each  hand  a  flower: 
'  O  pretty  maid,  come  in,'  he  said, 

'  And   see  my   beauteous   bower ! 
The  lily  it  shall  be  thy  smock, 
The  jonquil  shoe  thy  feet, 
Thy  gown  shall  be  the  scented  stock, 
To  make  thee  fair  and  sweet ! '  " 

"  Poor  old  Dad !  "  she  murmured — "  He  used  to  love  to 
hear  me  sing.  I  wish  he  had  lived  to  see  me  married, — he 

would  have  adored  Laurence oh,  how  hard  it  is  that 

people  should  have  to  die !  "  She  shivered  nervously,  and 
without  moving  from  her  place  began  to  pick  all  the  prim- 
roses that  were  within  reach  immediately  around  her.  "  If 
Dick  were  to  die — or  my  darling,  beautiful  baby  Laurence 
— I  know  I  should  die  too!  I  couldn't  bear  the  world 
without  them !  " 

She  sang  again  very  softly,  while  she  tied  more  primroses 
together  and  added  them  to  those  already  in  her  basket. 

"  The  gilly-flower  shall  deck  thy  head, 

Thy  way  with  herbs  I'll  strew, 
Thy  bodice  shall  be  marigold, 

Thy  gloves  the  violet  blue." 
"  I  will  not  have  the  gilly-flower, 

Nor  herbs  my  path  to  strew, 
Nor  bodice  of  the  marigold, 

Nor  gloves  of  violet  blue." 

Checking  her  song  she  looked  up  at  the  sky  and  smiled  at 
its  cloudless  radiance. 


HOLY    ORDERS  215 

"  What  a  perfect  afternoon !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  little 
sigh  of  enjoyment — "  I  do  hope  Dick  won't  be  long  before 
he  starts  out  to  meet  me.  I  think  I'll  wait  here  till  he 
comes." 

She  went  on  gathering  and  tying  up  bunches  of  primroses, 
her  happy  face  flushed  with  the  warmth  of  the  sun,  and  a 
smile  of  pleasure  sparkling  in  her  eyes.  Behind  her  the 
woods  still  spread  upwards,  gently  rising  to  a  ridge  of  land 
plumed  with  slender  pine-trees  and  other  evergreens  which 
formed  a  kind  of  cover  for  game.  This  was  one  of  Mr. 
Minchin's  '  preserves '  and  a  board  put  up  on  a  pole  in  a 
prominent  position  bore  this  legend  inscribed  upon  it: — 
"  Trespassers  will  be  prosecuted  and  dogs  destroyed."  But 
Azalea  was  not  upon  the  forbidden  ground,  though  she  was 
within  a  few  yards  of  it, — therefore  the  man  who  suddenly 
appeared  on  the  ridge,  slouching  along  with  a  gun  in  his 
hand,  would  not  have  startled  her  from  her  peaceful  atti- 
tude, even  if  she  had  heard  or  seen  him  coming,  which  she 
did  not.  He  was  walking  unsteadily,  with  his  head  down, 
apparently  picking  his  way  among  the  '  snags '  and  stumps 
of  trees  as  though  he  were  afraid  of  falling,  and  he  had  got 
half-way  across  the  ridge  before  he  caught  sight  of  her 
figure  quietly  seated  among  the  primroses.  Then,  with  a 
smothered  exclamation  he  stopped  short,  and  pushed  his  hat 
up  from  his  brows,  showing  a  soiled,  red  bloated  face, — the 
face  of  Dan  Kiernan.  Too  drunk  too  stand  straight,  he 
swayed  to  and  fro,  one  hand  clutching  at  the  branch  of  a 
tree  to  steady  himself,  the  other  gripping  his  gun  harder. 

"  By  G— d !  "  he  muttered  thickly — "  It's  that  damned 
parson's  wife!  " 

He  laughed  stupidly — staring  fixedly  at  the  little  white 
figure  below  him.  Just  then  a  small  sweet  voice  floated  up 
to  his  ears,  singing: 

"  I  will  not  have  the  scented  stock, 

Nor  jonquils  to  my  shoon, 
But  I  will  have  the  red,  red  rose, 

That  flow'reth  sweet  in  June." 
"The  red,  red  rose  it  hath  a  thorn 

That  pierceth  to  the  bone." 
"  I  little  heed  thy  idle  rede, 

I'll  have  the  rose,  or  none." 


216  HOLY     ORDERS 

With  a  mocking  movement  of  his  head  Dan  kept  time  to 
the  floating  echo  of  the  tune. 

"  It's  the  dolly  wife  for  sure !  "  he  said  to  himself  in  a 
savage  whisper — "  I  haven't  seen  her  since — since " 

A  dark  flush  rose  to  his  brows,  and  he  uttered  a  horrible 
oath. 

"  You  lost  me  Jacynth,  you  little  devil !  "  he  said  in  a 
hoarse  whisper — "You!  You  sneakin'  simperin'  baby-face! 
Oh,  I  don't  forget  ye !  Not  much !  Nor  likely  to !  " 

Noiselessly  letting  go  the  branch  he  held,  he  crouched 
'down  like  a  wild  beast  among  the  brushwood  and  peered 
through  the  network  of  leaf  and  bramble,  his  eyes  fastened 
greedily  on  the  uncovered  fair  head  that  shone  like  a  gleam 
of  vivid  gold  among  the  paler  tinted  primroses. 

"The  red,  red  rose  it  hath  a  thorn 

That  pierceth  to  the  heart." 
"  The  red,  red  rose  I  still  will  have 
I  shall  not  heed  the  smart." 

Once  more  the  clear  little  voice  rang  gently  upward  on 
the  air,  and  a  thrush  swinging  on  a  branch  of  hazel  warbled 
a  cheerful  answering  strain.  Dropping  on  his  knees,  Kier- 
man  stretched  himself  stealthily  along  the  ground  under  cover 
of  the  brambles,  still  clenching  his  gun. 

"  Sing  away,  sing  away !  "  he  snarled,  his  coarse  face 
growing  darkly  purple  with  suppressed  fury — "  But  you're 
not  going  to  get  off  your  reckoning  with  me,  my  fine  lady! 
A  bit  of  a  fright  won't  hurt  ye — a  bit  of  a  fright " 

And  he  slowly  raised  his  gun  to  his  shoulder.  A  bough 
cracked  near  him  and  he  paused  irresolute. 

"  She  bent  her  down  unto  the  ground 
To  pluck  the  rose  so  red " 

The  song  trembled  again  towards  him  on  a  wave  of  the 
wind.  He  brought  his  gun  to  position, — then, — without 
considering  his  aim, — fired.  A  flash — a  sharp  report — one 
thin  puff  of  pale-blue  smoke — and  the  little  white  figure 
among  the  primroses  sprang  up  erect  with  a  shrill  cry, 
reeled,  fell  forward  and  lay  prone  on  its  face,  motionless. 
He  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 


HOLY    ORDERS  217 

"  Hallo !  "  he  shouted — "  Hallo,  Missis  Everton !  Don't 
be  scared !  It's  only  Dan  Kiernan  shootin'  rabbits !  " 

And  bending  aside  the  intervening  boughs  he  watched 
the  fallen  heap  of  white  among  the  orange-brown  leaves, 
vaguely  expecting  it  to  rise  and  run  away.  But  it  remained 
still  so  long  that  he  grew  angry.  Scrambling  to  his  feet,  he 
stumbled  down  through  the  woods  and  approached  it — then 
stopped  short,  checked  by  a  nervous  horror.  The  innocent- 
eyed  primroses,  the  tender  points  of  young  unfurling  leaves, 
danced  before  his  sight  like  dizzying  flecks  of  green  and  yel- 
low fire, — he  saw  the  folds  of  a  woman's  white  dress,  and 
a  thin  dark  stream  of  red  blood  oozing  slowly  through  the 
whiteness,  and  he  began  to  shake  all  over  like  a  man  in  an 
ague  fit.  He  tried  to  speak, — but  his  throat  was  dry;  his 
lips  refused  to  frame  an  utterance.  There  was  a  heavy 
silence  everywhere — the  report  of  the  gun  had  scattered  all 
the  woodland  birds  away.  A  flaring  pomp  of  crimson 
flooded  the  west  and  burned  among  the  dark  tree-stems, — 
the  sun  was  going  down.  He  stood  stricken  as  it  were  by 
some  inward  horrible  amazement,  striving  to  control  the 
trembling  of  his  limbs,  the  chattering  of  his  teeth, — and  not 
daring  to  move  a  step  nearer  to  the  little  huddled  form  that 
lay  before  him  in  such  ghastly  mute  helplessness.  He  could 
not  touch  it — and  for  some  minutes  he  struggled  with  him- 
self trying  to  think  what  he  had  done — what  he  had  in- 
tended to  do.  Drink  had  so  dominated  and  poisoned  the 
cells  of  his  brain  that  he  was  unable  to  grasp  the  full  meaning 
of  his  own  act, — he  had  no  power  to  regret  it,  and  scarcely 
any  sense  to  understand  it.  The  first  thing  that  brought 
him  to  a  kind  of  confused  realization  of  his  position  was  the 
chiming  of  a  bell  in  the  near  distance.  It  was  the  bell  of 
Shadbrook  Church,  striking  the  hour.  He  counted  six 
strokes.  Moistening  his  parched  lips  with  his  tongue,  he 
strove  to  recover  his  voice,  and  presently  whispered  hoarsely: 

"  Missis  Everton !  " 

Silence!  But  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  oozing  blood 
soaking  its  way  through  the  white  dress  of  the  dead  woman 
made  a  strange  creeping  sound.  He  listened  with  growing 
terror.  Then  there  seemed  to  come  upon  him  like  a  clang 
of  iron  hammers  beating  in  his  ears,  the  cry  of  '  Murder! ' 
Brutal,  barbarous  murder!  And  he — was  he  the  murderer? 


218  HOLY     ORDERS 

No! — no! — it  was  not  so  bad  as  all  that, — he  had  fright- 
ened the  stupid  '  dolly  wife,'  and  she  had  fainted.  He  was 
sure,  quite  sure  he  had  not  killed  her!  In  a  kind  of  futile 
frenzy  he  threw  down  his  gun,  and  pressing  both  hands  to 
his  head  tried  to  steady  the  whirl  of  the  trees,  the  leaves,  the 
masses  of  primroses  that  danced  and  twisted  and  writhed 
like  mere  blotches  of  color,  all  concentrating  in  one  glaring 
focus  on  that  white  central  spot  with  the  red  blood  crawling 
slowly  through  it,  blurring  it  with  a  deep  dark  stain.  Then, 
all  at  once,  as  though  a  curtain  had  been  torn  away  from 
the  eyes  of  his  drugged  inner  consciousness,  the  awful  truth 
flashed  upon  him,  and  with  its  crashing  force  came  a  mad 
access  of  fear.  He  had  murdered  a  woman — and  the  law 
would  exact  penalty  for  his  crime!  The  law!  What  was 
the  law?  It  meant  hanging.  Not  always — no,  not  always! 
There  were  the  halfpenny  newspapers, — they  would  help 
him! — they  would  find  some  means  to  get  him  out  of  his 
trouble,  as  they  would  never  help  a  just  man! — they  could, 
if  they  liked,  work  up  a  whole  nation  to  beg  that  he  might 
be  pardoned  for  his  dastard  deed!  When  they  knew  all! 
— yes,  when  they  knew  how  Jennie  had  died,  and  how  Ja- 
cynth  had  left  him,  they  would  make  of  him  a  hero  and  a 
martyr!  He  had  not  read  those  papers  for  nothing!  And 
an  ugly  smile  darkened  his  face. 

'  'Twas  the  drink  that  drove  me  to  it !  "  he  said  suddenly 
and  loudly,  as  though  answering  some  invisible  accuser — 
"  Make  what  you  like  of  it, — 'twas  the  drink !  " 

A  slowly  moving  current  of  air  swayed  softly  through 
the  trees,  causing  them  to  rustle  gently, — a  line  of  ethereal 
blue  mist  floated  delicately  upward  from  the  moist  ground, 
suspending  itself  like  a  fine  web  against  the  deepening  rose 
tint  of  the  western  sky.  He  looked  once  more,  furtively 
and  shudderingly  on  the  motionless  form  of  his  victim. 

"  'Twas  the  drink !  "  he  repeated — "  From  beginning  to 
end.  D'ye  hear?  The  drink!  Naught  else!" 

The  faint  wind  stirred  a  tress  of  golden  hair  on  the  little 
fallen  head,  and  waved  it  gently  to  and  fro.  He  sprang 
back,  terrified.  That  hair  seemed  living, — was  she — was 
she  perhaps  alive  after  all  ?  She  might  be ! — who  could  tell  ? 
It  was  incredible — unnatural — impossible  that  she  should 
be  dead!  Dead,  dead,  dead!  He  muttered  the  word  over 


HOLY    ORDERS  219 

and  over  again  like  an  idiot  child.  Dead,  dead!  He  had 
seen  two  or  three  dead  people, — his  father,  who  had  been 
killed  by  the  swing  of  a  ponderous  machine  in  an  iron  foun- 
dry,— his  mother,  who  had  died  in  her  sleep, — and — Jennie. 
Poor  Jennie!  She  had  looked  so  old  and  waxen-yellow  in 
her  coffin!  And  Jennie's  death  had  been  brought  about  by 
that  white  thing  there,  lying  face  downward  among  the 
primroses.  So  that  by  a  kind  of  monstrous  special  pleading 
he  could  contend  that  justice  itself  had  sped  the  bullet  which 
had  so  surely  hit  its  mark!  His  glance  fell  on  the  gun  he 
had  thrown  down — and  with  his  foot  he  pushed  it  nearer 
the  prone  body.  He  would  leave  it  there ; — it  had  his  name 
upon  it.  He  was  not  a  coward — no! — he  would  not  evade 
justice — he  would  be  a  Halfpenny  Newspaper  hero!  But 
stay! — how  came  he  to  have  a  gun  with  him  that  day? 
With  a  painful  effort  he  remembered, — it  was  through  the 
kindness  of  Mr.  Minchin.  Through  the  kindness  of  Mr. 
Minchin!  Mr.  Minchin  had  paid  him  his  week's  wages 
and  had  said  that  if  he  liked  to  shoot  over  his,  the  great 
Minchin's  land,  for  a  rabbit  or  two,  he  was  welcome.  And 
he  had  had  a  drink — several  drinks — and  had  come  out 
looking  for  the  innocent  prey, — and  then — then  he  had  seen 
the  '  dolly  wife '  in  her  white  muslin  frock,  set  down  like 
a  target  in  the  midst  of  the  green  woods — yes — a  target! — 
a  mark  for  practice — and — and  he  had  fired,  simply  for  fun ! 
Simply  for  fun!  That  was  what  he  would  say  to  the  law 
— if — if  the  law  had  anything  to  say  to  him!  And  the  drink 
was  to  blame, — the  drink  had  made  his  hand  shake — he  had 

not  meant  to  kill  her . 

Just  then  his  ears  caught  a  sound  which  filled  him  with 
delirious  panic.  It  was  a  man's  whistle.  It  pierced  the 
sunset  silence  with  a  flute-like  clearness — and  again  and 
again  rang  through  the  quiet  air.  For  a  moment  Kiernan 
was  rooted  to  the  spot  where  he  stood,  paralyzed  by  sheer 
terror.  Then,  pulling  his  nerves  together  he  turned  and 
fled, — fled  in  furious  haste,  stumbling  breathlessly  and 
dizzily  up  the  ascent  leading  to  the  ridge  of  land  from 
whence  he  had  descended, — heedless  of  how  or  where  he 
went,  but  only  blindly  conscious  that  he  must  get  away. 
Away  out  of  the  neighborhood — miles  and  miles  away!  All 
the  trees  seemed  to  stand  like  a  crowd  of  accusing  witnesses 


220  HOLY     ORDERS 

in  his  path — he  felt  he  could  have  twisted  them  up  by  the 
roots  and  cast  them  aside  in  his  mad  hurry, — their  creaking 
boughs  seemed  to  groan  'Murder!'  as  he  passed,  and  he 
fought  his  way  along  in  a  feverish  frenzy  of  fear,  urging 
his  trembling  limbs  to  running  speed,  now  falling,  now 
scrambling  up  and  reeling  on,  till  at  last  breaking  desper- 
ately through  a  close  thicket  of  brushwood,  he  reached  the 
summit  of  the  ridge  and  disappeared.  As  his  dark  figure 
vanished  like  a  blot  in  space,  a  little  brown  bird  flew  across 
the  purpling  mist  of  the  sundown,  and  perching  on  a  branch 
of  budding  hawthorn,  caroled  sweetly  above  the  small  white 
figure  that  lay  motionless  among  the  last  year's  withered 
leaves  and  the  primroses  of  the  spring.  And  once  more, 
clearer  and  nearer  through  the  evening  stillness,  rang  the 
cheerful  whistle. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

'"THE  sun  had  sunk  below  the  horizon  when  Everton, 
1  leaning  his  arms  across  his  garden  gate,  looked  down 
the  darkening  road  outside  with  some  anxiety.  Not  having 
been  able  to  finish  his  writing  as  quickly  as  he  had  antici- 
pated, he  had  sent  Douay  to  meet  Azalea  on  her  way  back 
from  the  woods,  saying,  playfully: 

"  She's  very  smart  to-day  in  a  new  white  frock  which  she 
declares  she  has  put  on  to  please  you,  not  me! — so  I'll  be 
generous  and  give  you  all  the  advantage  of  it !  You  go  and 
find  her  among  the  primroses  and  be  her  escort  home." 

Douay  had  accepted  the  errand  with  delighted  alacrity, 
and  had  gone  off  at  once, — but  he  had  now  been  absent  some 
time, — evening  was  beginning  to  close  in,  and  there  was  no 
sign  of  his  return.  One  or  two  early  stars  twinkled  mildly 
in  the  warm  sky,  and  the  silence  of  a  perfect  peace  deepened 
with  the  deepening  shadows.  The  scent  of  budding  leaves 
and  sprouting  herbs  ascended  sweetly  from  the  dewy  earth, 
and  just  where  the  Vicar  stood,  a  bush  of  lilac  thrust  its 
flowering  sprays  against  his  shoulder,  expressing  in  its  deli- 
cate fragrance  all  the  spirit  of  the  spring.  He  could  not  see 
the  village  from  his  point  of  observation — and  yet — as  he 
waited,  listening  eagerly  for  the  first  approaching  footfall, 
or  the  first  sound  of  his  wife's  laughing  voice  as  he  had  so 
often  heard  it  ringing  out  merrily  in  conversation  with 
Douay,  he  fancied  he  heard  a  strange  smothered  cry,  as  of 
several  persons  moved  by  one  overwhelming  sense  of  horror. 
A  sudden  foreboding  thrill  ran  coldly  through  his  heart; 
he  unlatched  the  gate  and  took  one  or  two  hesitating  steps 
beyond  it — then  paused,  listening  again.  Surely  there  was 
some  unusual  commotion  in  the  village?  His  ears  caught 
the  echo  of  a  confused  noise  like  that  of  hurried  feet  run- 
ning to  and  fro,  mingling  with  an  increasing  murmur  of 
men's  and  women's  voices, — then  he  saw  the  gleam  of  lan- 
terns flickering  uncertainly  along  the  road.  An  inexplicable 

221 


222  HOLY     ORDERS 

dread  gripped  his  nerves, — anon,  shaking  off  the  momen- 
tary misgiving,  he  walked  on  quickly  for  several  paces, 
thereby  stumbling  almost  before  he  realized  it  into  the  out- 
stretched arms  of  Douay. 

"  Go  back !  Go  back,  Richard !  " — and  the  little  priest's 
face,  convulsed  and  wet  with  tears,  terrified  him  by  its 
ghastly  pallor — "My  poor  friend!  Go  back — back  into 
the  house! — do  not  ask  me  why — do  not  look  at  me " 

And  his  quivering  voice  broke  into  hard  sobs  of  irrepres- 
sible anguish.  Everton  staggered  and  threw  out  his  hands 
catching  blindly  at  the  empty  air. 

"  God !  "  he  muttered — "  What  is  this  ?  What  has  hap- 
pened? Where  is  my  wife?" 

Seizing  him  by  the  arm  Douay  strove  to  drag  him  back 
to  his  own  gateway. 

"Come — come!"  he  entreated  him — "Don't  wait  here 
— you  must  not,  Everton!  Come  with  me, — come,  I  beg — 
I  pray  of  you!  Your  wife " 

"  My  wife !  " — and  Everton's  struggling  hands  suddenly 
closed  on  Douay 's  shoulders  like  a  vice — "  Yes ! — what  of 
her  ?  Tell  me  quick — quick !  Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  She  is — coming!  "  and  Douay  made  a  strong  effort  to 
speak  calmly — "  They  are  bringing  her — bringing  her — 
home.  Oh,  my  friend,  try,  try  to  be  brave ! — there  may  per- 
haps be  hope!  God  is  good — she  may  not  be  dead " 

"  Dead !  "  Everton  cried  out  the  word  in  a  loud  wild 
voice.  "  Dead!  Azalea!  How  should  she  be  dead?  What 
are  you  talking  about  ?  She  is  well — quite  well !  Have  you 
not  met  her  ?  Could  you  not  find  her  ? " 

"Yes — yes — I  found  her!" — and  Douay,  battling  with 
his  own  emotions,  strove  to  support  and  guide  the  Vicar's 
swaying  figure  towards  his  own  home — "  I  found  her  ill — 
very  ill!  I  ran  to  the  nearest  farm  to  fetch  help — I  did  all 
I  could — Richard,  for  God's  sake  do  not  look  at  me  like 
that !  I  cannot  bear  it !  " 

His  voice  broke  again,  and  Everton's  brain  swung  round 
and  round  dizzily — strange  black  monster  shapes  seemed 
looming  at  him  out  of  the  evening  shadows,  beckoning  him 
and  drawing  him  with  resistless  force  into  some  frightful 
chasm  where  there  was  no  life,  no  world,  but  merely  blank 
Nothingness.  Some  one — who  was  it  ? — told  him  Azalea 


HOLY    ORDERS  223 

was  dead !  He  gave  involuntary  way  to  a  fit  of  wild,  half- 
groaning  laughter,  horrible  to  hear. 

"  My  wife!  "  he  cried—"  Dead?  No,  no!  Not  if  there 
is  a  God!" 

More  vague  dark  forms  approached, — creatures  of  bulk 
and  substance  who  seemed  to  gather  in  a  little  crowd  around 
him; — some  of  them  held  him  by  the  arms  and  spoke  to 
him,  but  he  could  not  understand  what  they  said, — they 
all  looked  to  him  like  devil  figures  in  a  delirious  dream,  and 
he  fought  with  them  reasonlessly  and  blindly,  not  knowing 
what  he  did,  till  overcome  by  a  sudden  sick  faintness  he 
reeled  and  nearly  fell.  Then  he  heard  the  subdued  excla- 
mations of  men,  and  the  sobs  of  women — he  felt,  rather  than 
knew,  that  he  was  being  half  led,  half  carried  into  his  own 
garden,  and  that  he  was  too  weak  and  helpless  to  resist. 
The  blossoming  sprays  of  the  lilac  at  his  gate  brushed  his 
face  with  a  dewy  freshness  as  he  passed,  and  he  closed  his 
eyes  heavily  with  a  kind  of  dim  hope  that  he  might  never 
open  them  again.  At  last,  without  any  consciousness  of 
how  it  happened,  he  found  himself  in  his  own  study,  lying 
back  in  his  own  chair  with  Dr.  Brand  bending  over  him 
and  holding  a  glass  of  some  odorous  cordial  to  his  lips.  He 
pushed  it  away. 

"  I  am  not  ill," — he  said  faintly — "  Not  ill  at  all — no ! 
It  was  only  a  sudden  giddiness — a  foolish  nervous  fancy, — 

I  thought 1  thought "  he  paused,  and  looking  about 

him  saw  that  Sebastien  Douay  was  in  the  room,  though  his 
face  was  averted.  "Yes — I  thought  I  heard  some  one  say 
that  my  wife  was  dead.  Of  course  it  is  not — it  cannot  be 
true !  It  would  not  be  possible !  " 

He  waited  for  a  word  of  reply.  Neither  Brand  nor 
Douay  spoke.  He  raised  himself  in  his  chair  and  his  eyes 
turned  imploringly  from  one  to  the  other.  Then  he  began 
to  tremble  violently. 

"  I  wish  to  understand,"  he  murmured — "  what  all  this 
trouble  is?  My  wife  went  out  into  the  woods  to  gather 
some  primroses,  and  I  said  I  would  go  and  meet  her.  But 
I  was  late  in  finishing  my  work,  and  I  sent  my  friend  Mr. 
Douay,  who  is  dining  with  us  this  evening,  instead.  Will 
she  not  come  back  with  him?  Shall  I  go  and  fetch  her 
myself?" 


224  HOLY     ORDERS 

Brand  sat  down  beside  him,  laying  one  hand  on  his 
arm. 

"  Mr.  Everton,  you  believe  in  God," — he  said — "  And 
you  are  a  naturally  brave  man.  You  want  all  your  courage 
now.  Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth ?" 

He  checked  himself  as  Everton  suddenly  sprang  up  with 
an  excited  gesture. 

"Hush— hush!"  he  muttered— "  What's  that?" 

And  he  listened  intently  to  a  dull  noise  outside  the  win- 
dow ; — the  noise  of  heavy  tramping  feet  crunching  the  gravel 
on  the  garden  path  with  a  measured  movement  as  though 
some  burden  were  being  slowly  carried  towards  the  house. 
Brand  and  Douay  exchanged  startled  glances,  and  Douay 
went  quickly  to  the  study  door,  opening  it  very  slightly. 

"Keep  the  child  away!" — he  called  softly  to  some  one 
outside — "  Don't  let  him  come  downstairs!  He  must  not 
see " 

"  Must  not  see  what  ?  "  Everton,  pale  to  the  lips,  came 
swiftly  behind  him,  thrusting  him  aside  with  a  wild  move- 
ment ;  "  Let  me  go !  " — this  to  Brand,  who,  himself  quite 
shaken  from  his  usual  professional  composure,  still  sought 
to  hold  him  back — "  I  must  find  my  wife !  " 

And  he  stepped  out  into  the  hall,  seeing  as  in  a  misty  blur 
of  bewilderment  the  servants  of  the  household  huddled 
there  together  and  sobbing  unrestrainedly, — then  with  a  cry 
which  no  one  who  heard  it  ever  forgot,  he  tottered  blindly 
forward  to  meet  a  group  of  men,  all  Shadbrook  villagers, 
who,  bareheaded  and  moving  softly,  carried  between  them 
a  stretcher,  on  which  lay,  completely  covered  over  with  a 
rough  cloak,  a  small  motionless  figure.  At  sight  of  this  the 
unhappy  Vicar  fell  on  his  knees  and  covered  his  head  with 
his  hands. 

"Oh,  not  Azalea!"  he  groaned — "Not  Azalea!  O 
God  of  mercy!  Not  Azalea!  " 

At  a  quick  sign  from  Brand  the  men  made  a  gentle  effort 
to  pass  him  and  carry  their  light  burden  upstairs,  but  he 
struggled  to  his  feet  and  stopped  them.  With  staring  eyes 
and  laboring  breath  he  approached  that  quiet  recumbent 
form,  and  putting  his  hand  out  tremblingly  turned  back  the 
cloak  that  hid  it  from  his  view.  Oh,  what  a  sweet,  small 
white  face!  Was  it  Azalea?  Could  it  be  the  laughing, 


HOLY    ORDERS  225 

radiant,  winsome  Azalea?  With  such  gently  closed  eyelids 
and  such  a  frozen  piteous  smile? 

"Azalea!"  His  voice  was  a  mere  struggling  whisper. 
"My  wife!" 

The  men  turned  their  heads  away.  They  could  not  bear 
to  look  at  him.  Sebastien  Douay  drew  near,  but  was  un- 
heeded. 

"My  wife!"  The  stifled  exclamation  was  like  a  dying 
groan.  He  bent  over  the  corpse,  gazing,  gazing  as  though 
his  very  soul  were  ebbing  away  in  vision, — then,  all  at  once 
his  numbed  senses  started  to  life,  and  his  heart  began  to  beat 

fast  and  ever  faster  with  a  maddening  rush  of  fear 

what what  were  those  stains  that  dyed  the  whiteness  of 

the  breast  and  garments  of  the  dead, — wet,  crimson  stains 

— horrible  to  see,  horrible  to  touch God,  God,  God! 

The  hammers  clashing  in  his  brain  made  louder,  fiercer 

noise  till  it  seemed  that  something  worse  than  death  was  tor- 
turing every  nerve  in  his  body,  and  he  almost  shrieked  out 
at  last  in  vehement  agony,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  said — 

"Tell  me,  tell  me,  tell  me!  For  God's  sake!  What  is 

it what  does  it  mean this  terrible  thing what  is 

it ?" 

He  threw  his  arms  about  wildly,  unconscious  of  his  ac- 
tions, and  Brand,  hurrying  to  his  side,  caught  him  and  held 
him  fast.  He  heard  some  one  say — "  He  must  be  told," — 
and  then  he  waited,  like  a  criminal  before  a  judge,  his  whole 
being  strained  to  hear  his  sentence.  Brand's  voice,  shaken 
by  emotion,  sounded  like  a  booming  tocsin  in  his  ears,  un- 
naturally loud,  unnaturally  deep. 

"  Your  wife  has  been  murdered !  " 

Murdered!  He  tried  to  understand.  Murdered!  He 
looked  intently  at  the  little  fair,  still  face  that  smiled  so 
strangely,  not  at  him,  but  at  something  unknown  and  un- 
seen. Murdered!  An  icy  coldness  congealed  his  blood, — 
he  tried  to  speak  and  his  lips  moved  stiffly  as  though  gripped 
with  an  iron  ring.  He  drew  himself  rigidly  upright  in  the 
dreary  calmness  of  utter  despair. 

"  Murdered !  "  he  echoed,  feebly — "  How who  would 

murder  her?" 

A  murmur  came  from  the  men. 

"  Dan.     Dan  Kiernan.     Kiernan,  for  sure !  " 


226  HOLY     ORDERS 

A  wail  of  intolerable  suffering  broke  from  him. 

"Kiernan!" 

Dr.  Brand,  still  supporting  him,  felt  his  figure  sway  and 
tremble  as  though  it  were  struck  by  a  lightning  shock. 

"  It's  best  you  should  know  everything  at  once,  Mr.  Ev- 
erton," — he  said,  very  gently — "  Your  wife  is  dead !  She 
has  been  shot  through  the  heart.  Mr.  Douay  found  her 
lifeless  body  in  the  woods,  and  Kiernan's  discharged  gun 
was  lying  beside  her.  It's  an  awful  tragedy!  How  the 
murder  was  committed  we  do  not  know.  But — if  it  can  be 
the  least  comfort  to  you — her  death  must  have  been  instan- 
taneous, and  therefore  painless.  Come! — let  me  take  you 
back  to  your  room !  " 

But  the  stricken  man  stood  like  a  figure  of  stone.  Douay, 
with  the  tears  running  undisguisedly  down  his  face,  ven- 
tured to  put  a  hand  through  his  arm. 

"  My  dear  friend !  "  he  murmured  pleadingly — "  Come 
with  me!  Let  us  pray  God  to  help  us " 

Then  Everton  stirred.  He  turned  his  wild  eyes  round 
about  him  in  vacant  horror. 

"  God !  "  he  cried—"  Where  is  God  ?  Does  God  live  and 
look  on  this?  " 

He  pointed,  with  both  trembling  hands  outstretched,  at 
his  dead  wife, — and  just  then  one  of  the  men  who  carried 
the  stretcher,  actuated  by  a  kind  intention,  moved  softly 
from  his  place  to  put  aside  poor  Azalea's  basket  full  of 
primroses  which  had  been  brought  home  with  her  body. 
But  Everton  caught  sight  of  it.  With  a  sudden  imperative 
force  he  snatched  it  from  the  man's  hold,  and  stared  at  the 
freshly  plucked  blossoms,  all  prettily  bunched  together  and 
full  of  fragrance, — they  were  living — they  would  live  for 

days  yet but  she Azalea she  was  dead!  And 

yet some  one  spoke  of  God!  He  smiled, — as  men  have 

been  known  to  smile  under  the  falling  knife  of  the  guillo- 
tine. 

"  Come,  Douay !  "  he  said  brokenly — "  These  are  our 
primroses — to  deck  the  table  to-night!  She  wishes  to  make 

things  bright  for  you and  for  me! she  is  always  so 

bright  herself you  know  she  is always  bright  and 

merry ! come ! come ! " 


His  face  changed  and  grew  darkly  convulsed — his  voice 


HOLY    ORDERS  227 

died  away  in  an  inarticulate  gasping  sob, — and  he  fell  prone 
on  the  ground,  lost  in  the  black  oblivion  of  a  merciful  un- 
consciousness. 

****** 

***** 

*  *  *  * 

They  told  little  Laurence  that  his  mother  was  ill,  and 
that  he  must  not  go  to  her  room.  He  was  in  his  night- 
gown, waiting  to  see  her  as  usual  before  getting  into  bed, 
when  this  unexpected  news  was  brought  to  him.  He  lis- 
tened with  patient  gravity,  but  in  his  own  mind  he  did  not 
believe  the  tale.  He  was  puzzled  and  worried.  He  had 
been  shut  up  in  the  nursery  for  some  time  and  the  door  had 
been  locked, — he  had  heard  a  strange  commotion  in  the 
house  and  had  longed  to  find  out  what  it  was, — heavy  foot- 
steps had  tramped  upstairs  and  tramped  down  again,  and 
then  there  had  followed  a  long  silence.  He  was  instinc- 
tively sure  that  something  mysterious  and  terrible  had  hap- 
pened, and  he  wondered  what  it  could  be. 

"  Mummy  went  out  at  tea-time  to  pick  primroses," — he 
said — "  Has  she  come  back?  " 

Good  Nurse  Tomkins,  who  had  stayed  on  and  on  with 
the  Evertons  solely  for  love  of  the  child,  put  her  arm  ten- 
derly round  him. 

"Yes,  dear,  I  told  you  she  has  come  back.  But  she  is 
ill." 

"  Why  are  you  crying  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Am  I  crying  ?  "  Tomkins  affected  surprise.  "  I  expect 
it's  a  cold  I've  got." 

"  How  did  Mummy  get  ill  ?  "  he  went  on — "  She  was 
quite  well  this  afternoon." 

"  She — she  was  badly  hurt  in  the  woods," — said  Tom- 
kins  hesitatingly "And  she  is  obliged  to  be  very  very 

quiet.  She's  not  able  to  come  and  kiss  you  good-night," — 
here  there  was  Such  a  long  pause  that  Laurence  was  quite 
bewildered — "  But  you'll  say  your  prayers  now  and  go  to 
bed  like  a  good  boy,  won't  you  ?  " 

The  little  fellow  looked  at  her  earnestly  with  wide-open 
loving  eyes — the  eyes  of  a  child-angel  rapt  in  heavenly 


228  HOLY     ORDERS 

meditation.  Then  he  obediently  knelt  down,  and  folded 
his  hands  reverently,  murmuring  the  "  Our  Father  "  with 
slow  and  careful  tenderness.  At  its  conclusion  he  paused 
— and  heaving  a  small  soft  sigh,  added : 

"  Pray  God  bless  Dad  and  Mummy,  and  please,  dear 
God,  I  am  sorry  Mummy  is  ill  and  I  hope  you  will  make 
her  well  directly  unless  you  want  her  to  be  an  angel.  And 
if  you  want  her  to  be  an  angel,  please  make  me  an  angel 
too,  and  Dad  and  all  of  us,  and  teach  us  how  to  come  to 
you  in  Heaven.  Amen." 

Nurse  Tomkins  choked  back  the  rising  sobs  that  threat- 
ened to  break  down  her  forced  composure  as  she  heard  this 
quaint  petition.  Turning  away  she  busied  herself  in  tidying 
the  room,  while  the  boy  clambered  into  bed  and  lay  down, 
his  golden  curls  spreading  out  in  a  kind  of  halo  on  the  pil- 
low. Then  she  came  and  tucked  him  up  and  kissed  his 
forehead. 

"  Good-night,   Master  Laurence !  " 

He  studied  her  face  anxiously. 

"  I'm  sure  you're  crying,  Nursie," — he  said — "  It's  not  a 
cold.  Isn't  Dad  coming  to  see  me?  " 

"  Dad  is  with  the  doctor," — she  answered  him  quickly, — 
"  He  can't  come  just  now.  Go  to  sleep,  dearie !  " 

She  left  the  room  hastily,  afraid  to  stay  any  longer  lest 
her  self-control  should  give  way.  Laurence  listened  to  the 
soft  echo  of  her  departing  footsteps,  and  lay  very  still  in  his 
bed,  and  very  wide  awake,  thinking.  There  was  something 
wrong  in  the  house, — something  dreadful — of  that  he  felt 
quite  sure.  Never  in  all  his  little  life  of  five  years  had  he  been 
told  to  go  to  sleep  like  this  without  good-night  kisses  from 
one  or  both  of  his  parents.  He  could  not  understand  it. 
His  fancies  began  to  drift  dreamily  backward  over  the  long, 
sweet  summer-like  day  that  had  now  closed  into  night, — 
what  pretty  pink  roses  Mummy  had  planted  just  at  the 
furthest  end  of  the  lawn  where  the  sunlight  could  warm 
their  opening  buds  and  blossoms! — and  there  was  going  to 
be  a  new  swing  put  up  where  the  two  big  pine  trees  made  an 
arch  of  shade  over  the  greensward — and — Mummy  could 
certainly  toss  a  ball  higher  than  he  could — and  she  had 
promised  him  a  wonderful  Japanese  kite  that  could  fly  ever 
so  high  even  when  there  wasn't  much  wind — and  Mummy 


HOLY    ORDERS  229 

had  raced  him'round  the  field  and  pretended  she  couldn't  pos- 
sibly catch  him,  and  when  he  had  thought  she  was  nowhere 
near  she  had  suddenly  run  out  from  behind  a  tree,  and  had 
caught  him  and  carried  him  riding  astride  across  her  shoul- 
ders all  the  way  home!  He  laughed  with  delight  at  this 
recollection — Mummy  was  such  a  good  playfellow!  And 
now  poor  Mummy  was  ill — it  would  be  very  lonesome  if 
she  had  to  stay  long  in  bed — perhaps  she  would  be  better 
to-morrow, — here  his  thoughts  became  drowsy  and  con- 
fused— his  eyes  closed,  and  though  he  opened  them  once  or 
twice  in  a  sudden  startled  expectancy,  half  hoping  that  his 
mother  might,  after  all,  come  in  to  him,  he  was  soon  asleep. 

Everton,  meanwhile,  lay  unconscious  for  the  greater  part 
of  two  hours.  His  swoon  was  deep  and  heavy,  and  at  mo- 
ments Brand  feared  that  his  life  might  ebb  away.  Sebas- 
tien  Douay,  patient  and  watchful  as  a  faithful  dog,  remained 
beside  him. 

"  I  will  wait,"  he  said,  "  all  night  here.  It  may  be  that 
I  shall  be  useful.  I  have  already  sent  a  message  to  my 
housekeeper, — she  will  not  expect  me  home.  I  shall  not 
leave  my  poor  friend." 

Strange  men  came  and  went  from  the  Vicarage,  stepping 
softly  and  speaking  in  whispers, — two  inspectors,  hastily 
summoned  by  telegram  from  the  nearest  police-station,  were 
soon  on  the  premises,  questioning  and  examining  every  one 
who  could  tell  them  as  much  as  was  yet  known  of  the  crime, 
and  with  as  brief  delay  as  possible  in  an  out-of-the-world 
place  like  Shadbrook,  the  scouts  of  the  law  were  sent  all 
over  the  country  in  track  of  Dan  Kiernan,  the  general  im- 
pression being  that  he  could  not  have  got  very  far  away, 
and  that  it  would  be  a  comparatively  easy  matter  to  run 
him  to  earth.  At  Mr.  Minchin's  residence  the  news  had 
crashed  down  like  a  thunderbolt,  though  Mrs.  Minchin's 
first  exclamation  was  one  of  pleasure. 

"  Azalea  Everton  murdered  ?  Really  dead  ?  "  she  ex- 
claimed, with  sparkling  eyes — "  What  a  blessing !  " 

Whereat  her  husband  turned  upon  her  in  a  towering 
rage. 

"  Fool  of  a  woman  that  you  are!  "  he  shouted — "  Is  ruin 
a  blessing?  For  that's  what  it  means  to  me!  Ruin! — 
ruin!  If  Everton 's  wife  is  killed,  and  Dan  Kiernan — one 


230  HOLY     ORDERS 

of  my  brewery  hands,  remember! — has  killed  her,  there'll 
be  the  devil  to  pay !  " 

By  way  of  suitable  response,  Mrs.  Minchin  at  once  flew 
into  one  of  her  feline  furies. 

"  There  always  is  the  devil  to  pay  where  you  are !  "  she 
burst  out,  stridently — "  I  suppose  you,  in  common  with 
other  male  fools  like  yourself,  have  a  sneaking  admiration 
for  baby-faced  women " 

"I'd  rather  have  a  baby-face  than  a  cat's  face!"  he  re- 
torted, "  Or  a  cat's  temper!  " 

These  were  the  trifling  sort  of  domestic  endearments 
usually  indulged  in  by  the  Minchin  wedded  pair, — endear- 
ments which  they  fondly  imagined  were  unknown  to  the 
outer  world,  but  which  their  own  servants  took  care  to  make 
the  common  talk  of  the  neighborhood. 

The  night  moved  on  solemnly  in  a  pomp  of  dark  azure 
besprinkled  with  stars, — the  outside  world  of  nature  ex- 
pressed a  majestic  indifference  to  human  sorrow,  combined 
with  an  equally  majestic  peace.  What  matter  if  the  hearts 
of  men  break  under  a  strain  of  suffering  too  great  for  them 
to  bear?  The  sun  shines  on  in  the  same  way — and  there 
are  always  a  host  of  clowns  ready  to  laugh  at  every  Agony 
in  Gethsemane.  One  woman  more  or  less  foully  done  to 
death — is  it  so  much  to  trouble  about?  Especially  in  these 
days,  when  each  life-unit  is  so  engrossed  in  whirling  round 
and  round  in  its  own  limited  circle  that  it  can  see  nothing 
outside  of  that — not  even  God!  And  Azalea — the  thought- 
less, frivolous  Azalea,  whose  brief  existence  had  been  inno- 
cently centered  in  herself,  her  husband  and  child — even  she 
had  been  drawn  out  of  the  narrow  ring  of  Circumstance 
into  the  vast  possibilities  of  the  Eternal, — while,  so  far  as 
present  time  and  place  were  concerned,  she  was  asleep.  She 
lay  on  her  little  bed,  softly  gowned  in  snowy  linen  and  lace, 
her  long  bright  golden  hair  unwound  from  its  many  twists 
and  curls,  and  meekly  parted  on  either  side  of  her  brow, — 
her  small  hands,  waxen-white,  crossed  on  her  breast.  She 
looked  like  the  recumbent  statue  of  a  saint  sculptured  in 
alabaster.  Death  had  given  her  features  a  sweet  austerity 
which  seemed  to  mutely  express  the  knowledge  of  '  beautiful 
things  made  new,  for  the  delight  of  the  sky-children.'  White 
flowers  were  set  about  the  room,  and  a  lamp  was  dimly 


HOLY    ORDERS  231 

burning — now  and  then  the  door  noiselessly  opened,  and  a 
servant  looked  in,  to  retire  again  quickly  with  a  suppressed 
sob ;  and  that  awful  hush  which  pervades  a  house  when  some 
one  who  has  been  the  life  and  soul  of  it  has  passed  away  for 
ever,  hung  like  an  almost  palpable  cloud  in  the  air.  Ever- 
ton,  aroused  at  last  from  his  long  swoon,  came  back  slowly 
into  the  dreadful  consciousness  of  his  grief,  and  with  that 
consciousness  there  arose  in  him  a  profound  and  terrible 
sense  of  despairing  resignation — a  sense  that  life  being  over, 
there  was  nothing  to  mourn  for,  or  to  regret.  Everything  was 
finished, — there  was  no  earth,  no  heaven, — nothing  but  the 
dull  acceptance  of  an  inevitable  and  universal  doom.  In 
this  fixed  and  frozen  mood,  he  rose  from  the  couch  where 
he  had  been  laid  down  in  his  room  insensible,  and  in  quiet, 
measured  tones  thanked  Brand  for  all  his  attention. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said  gently — "  to  have  given  you  so 
much  trouble.  I  have  kept  you  from  your  other  patients — 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  illness  about  in  the  village  just  now 
— please  do  not  wait  with  me  any  longer.  I  am  much  bet- 
ter  able  to  bear " 

His  lip  quivered — he  looked  away  for  a  moment.  Brand 
filled  in  the  painful  pause  hurriedly. 

"Yes,  you  are  better,  Mr.  Everton," — he  said — "And 
you  have  a  good  reserve  of  strength — I  can  trust  you!  I 
will  leave  you  if  you  wish  it.  Mr.  Douay  is  here " 

Douay  approached  as  his  name  was  mentioned. 

"  Yes,  I  am  here," — he  said — "  And  here  I  shall  remain 

till'  to-morrow  morning "  he  checked  himself  abruptly 

as  Everton  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Douay,  I  would  rather  be  alone !  " 

"  Richard,  my  friend,  it  cannot  be — you  are  weak — you 
are  not  fit " 

"  I  am !  I  am  fit, 1  must  be  by  myself by  myself 

to  think! to  try  and  understand  what  has  happened  to 

me.  For  God's  sake,  let  me  have  my  way !  " 

Brand  and  Douay  glanced  anxiously  at  one  another.  Then 
Brand  spoke: 

"  Very  well,  it  shall  be  as  you  wish,  Mr.  Everton,"— -he 
said,  "  But  you  will  not  turn  Mr.  Douay  out  at  this  time 
of  night,  will  you?  It's  nearly  eleven  o'clock.  Let  him 
stay  in  the  house  at  any  rate." 


232  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  In  the  house  ?  "    Everton  looked  about  him  vaguely  as 

though    scarcely    realizing    his    surroundings — "  Yes oh 

yes of  course!    My  dear  Douay,  forgive  me!    You  have 

been  so  patient so  kind 1  forgot !    And you  went 

to  meet  her my  poor  little  wife!     Oh  yes you  must 

stay  here but  you  will  leave  me  for  a  while  in  this  room 

quite  alone,  will  you  not?     I  shall  be  better  so " 

They  saw  it  was  wisest  to  humor  him. 

"  You  shall  do  just  as  you  like,  Mr.  Everton," — said 
Brand,  "  Only  promise  me  to  try  and  master  yourself! — 
I  am  no  preacher  and  cannot  offer  you  the  right  sort  of  con- 
solation— but  your  own  trust  in  God  will  help  you " 

Everton  raised  a  trembling  hand  in  protest. 

"Spare  me  that!"  he  said — "I  know  what  you  would 
wish  to  say,  and  I  thank  you!  But  I  am  not  strong  enough 

to  stand  quite  firmly  under  the  blow not  yet!     It  is  all 

for  the  best,  no  doubt! all  for  the  best  that  rny  beloved 

has  been  brutally  murdered! yes!  "  and  he  smiled,  drear- 
ily  "All    for    the    best!     Yes 1    will    try    to    be- 

v  " 

lieve 

His  speech  failed  him,  and  his  lips  moved  dumbly  for  a 
moment.  Then  he  spoke  out  again. 

"  Has has  everything  been  arranged  ?  " 

Brand  bent  his  head  in  assent. 

"Where where  is  she?"  he  asked,  in  a  sighing  whis- 
per. 

Brand  replied  in  equally  hushed  accents. 

"  In  her  own  room." 

Another  long  and  mournful  pause.  Then  the  Vicar  held 
out  his  hand. 

"Good-night!" 

Tears  rushed  to  Douay's  eyes. 

"  Good-night,  my  dear  friend !  " 

Brand  could  have  cried  too  at  the  sight  of  the  tall,  slender, 
delicate-featured  man  before  him  who  was  stricken  to  the 
very  soul  by  a  grief  so  great  that  words  were  all  powerless  to 
express  it.  But  he  took  refuge  from  his  own  emotions  in 
practical  utterance. 

"  I  should  tell  you  before  I  go,  Mr.  Everton,"  he  said 
quickly,  "  that  the  police  are  out  all  over  the  country  after 


HOLY    ORDERS  ^233 

Kiernan.  There's  no  trace  of  him  as  yet,  but  he  will  prob- 
ably be  found  and  arrested  in  the  morning." 

Everton  listened,  scarcely  comprehending. 

"  And  then  ?  "  he  murmured. 

"  Then  he  will  be  handed  over  to  the  law  for  the  punish- 
ment of  his  dastard  crime!  "  exclaimed  Douay,  hotly. 

The  Vicar  gave  a  slight  gesture  of  utter  weariness. 

"  What  will  that  avail to  me?  "  he  asked. 

A  silence  followed.  Everton  looked  at  his  two  compan- 
ions with  strained  tearless  eyes. 

"  It  is  all  no  use," — he  said — "  My  wife  is  dead!  Noth- 
ing can  bring  her  back  to  me  again.  The  vengeance  of  the 
law  can  only  increase  my  suffering.  Even  as  it  is,  the  ways 
of  the  law  will  wring  my  heart  till  it  is  dry  of  life-blood! 
For  I  suppose  there  must  be  an  inquest ?" 

"  Yes,  there  must  be  an  inquest,  certainly  " — answered 
Brand,  with  hesitation "  Surely  you  would  wish  it " 

"  Wish  it !  "  Everton  wrung  his  hands  in  an  energy  of 
desperation — "  I !  /  wish  that  strange  men  should  desecrate 
by  their  looks  the  dead  body  of  my  wife !  I  tell  you,  Brand, 
the  law,  in  seeking  to  avenge  a  wronged  man,  often  wrongs 
him  most  in  the  manner  of  its  avenging!"  He  gave  an- 
other convulsive  movement  of  his  hands.  "  Leave  me  now, 
— he  implored — "  leave  me,  I  beg  of  you  both !  It  will  be 
the  truest  kindness  to  me — it  will  indeed!  I  talk  wildly, 

unreasonably,  I  know 1  am  not  myself 1  shall  be 

calmer  when  I  have  had  time  to  think!  " 

He  sank  into  a  chair  wearily  and  closed  his  eyes.  He 
heard  whispered  words  exchanged  between  Brand  and  Douay, 
— he  felt  rather  than  knew  that  Douay  had  impulsively 
caught  his  hand  and  pressed  it — then  the  study  door 
opened  and  was  softly  shut  again, — they  had  gone,  and  he 

was  alone.  Alone, and  yet  the  first  impression  of  his 

solitude  was  that  Azalea  had  come  in,  and  that  she  stood 
beside  him.  He  could  almost  see  the  folds  of  her  white 
gown, — the  gleam  of  her  gold  hair.  Only  she  did  not  move 
at  all, — she  was  perfectly  still,  and  though  she  smiled  at  him 
she  was  very  pale.  He  stretched  out  his  arms  to  the  vacant 
air. 

"  My  love,  my  wife !     I  dreamed  that  you  were  dead ! 


234  HOLY     ORDERS 

But  you  are  not you  cannot  be!  You  are  here  with  me,, 

are  you  not? — yes,  always,  always  with  me!" 

And  he  fancied  he  heard  the  sweet  familiar  voice  like  a 
breath  of  music,  answer  him — 

"Always!" 

He  started  up  amazed,  looking  eagerly  round  him.  The 
candles  were  burning  brightly — the  room  was  empty,  and 
gradually  the  awful  weight  of  realized  desolation  fell  back 
on  his  heart  with  doubly  suffocating  pressure. 

"Dead!"   he  murmured "Azalea!      Not   possible!" 

His  trembling  hand  here  touched  by  chance  a  flower  in  his 
buttonhole — it  was  the  rosebud  his  wife  had  pinned  there 
when  she  had  left  him  that  afternoon  a  few  hours  ago.  Only 
a  few  hours  ago!  His  fingers  closed  upon  it  as  a  miser's 
fingers  might  close  upon  some  priceless  jewel, — his  heart 
heaved — and  his  throat  burned  with  choking  agony, — but 
no  tears  relieved  the  tension  of  his  brain.  He  would  not 
unpin  the  rose,  but  he  bent  his  head  to  its  petals  and  kissed 
it  in  a  frenzy  of  love  and  sorrow.  The  fragrant  velvety 
softness  of  it  was  like  Azalea's  mouth  when — when  she  was 
alive.  When  she  was  alive!  And  now — she  was  dead. 
Dead and  murdered  by  Dan  Kiernan. 

He  tried  to  grapple  with  this  hideous  fact — murdered 
by  Dan  Kiernan.  Yet  he  was  so  far  from  bring- 
ing its  reality  home  to  himself  that  his  thoughts  went 
groping  miserably  back  over  all  the  old  trodden  road 
of  past  incident, — trifle  upon  trifle  recurred  to  him 
with  minute  distinctness, — and  every  small  detail  of 
everything  that  had  happened,  repeated  itself  in  the 
nature  of  an  accurate  chronicle  or  summary  of  events 
since  the  ill-omened  day  three  years  ago  when,  moved  by  a 
spirit  of  Christian  love  and  service,  he  had  gone  forth  as 
a  minister  of  the  Gospel  to  rescue  a  defenseless  woman  from 
her  husband's  druken  fury.  Then  it  all  vanished  in  a  blur, 
— and  the  one  black  horror  remained  with  him — that  Azalea 
was  dead.  That  from  henceforth  he  was  without  love  in 
the  world.  And  that  she,  in  the  full  radiance  of  her  beauty 
and  happiness,  had  been  brutally  killed  by  the  sodden  ruffian 
who  had  been  the  lover  of  Jacynth.  Jacynth!  That  name, 
so  full  of  poignant  association  with  his  misery,  goaded  him 
to  a  kind  of  madness, — he  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 


HOLY    ORDERS  235 

room,  feebly  at  first,  then  with  swifter  and  stronger  steps, 
till  all  at  once  a  thought  struck  him  and  he  stopped  abruptly 
with  an  upward  glance  of  reproachful  appeal. 

"Where  was  God?" 

He  put  the  question  sternly  to  the  silence. 

"Where  was  God?" 

Where  was  '  Our  Father,'  the  merciful  Benefactor  and 
Giver  of  Life  and  Love,  when  Kiernan's  work  was  done? 
Where?  Where  was  the  Divine  Force  that  should  surely 
have  interposed  between  the  slayer  and  his  victim?  And 
with  an  overwhelming  rush  as  of  waves  and  winds  hurtling 
down  upon  his  sinking  soul,  the  vast  abyss  of  complete  Un- 
belief yawned  wide  before  him.  He  stood  upon  its  brink 
and  looked  down.  Blank  Nothingness  was  there, — the 
nothing  of  life,  the  nothing  of  death,  and  most  desolate  of 
all,  the  Nothing  of  God!  Of  what  use  was  all  the  pray- 
ing and  the  preaching?  Swift  as  a  flash  his  mind  flew  back 
to  the  time  when  he  had  stood  by  young  Hadley's  death- 
bed, and  had  listened  to  the  lad's  wild  ravings.  He  recalled 
the  terrible  words — "Don't  pray!  It's  no  use!  With  my 
last  breath  I  want  to  make  you  remember  that.  It's  no 
use!"  And  the  frenzied  cry — "Love,  I  say! — love! — it's 

what  the  Lord  Christ  never  knew it's  what  He  missed 

love  for  a  woman! — and  there  He  fails  to  be  our 

brother  in  sorrow !  "  With  what  strange  self-sufficiency 
he  had  heard  these  dying  lamentations!  Yes — self-suffi- 
ciency!— the  placid  self-sufficiency  of  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel  who  was  sure  of  his  faith.  Sure — quite  sure 
of  his  faith!  And  now?  The  bulwarks  were  shaking 
— the  fortress  was  giving  way, — and  why?  Because  death 
had  battered  down  his  own  house  door,  and  sorrow  had 
pierced  his  own  heart!  Here  he  came  to  a  pause  in  his 
meditations,  shuddering  inwardly  as  with  icy  cold. 

"  O  we  poor  orphans  of  nothing, — alone  on  that  lonely  shore — 
Born  of  the  brainless  Nature  who  knew  not  that  which  she  bore ! 
Trusting  no  longer  that  earthly  flower  would  be  heavenly  fruit ; 
Come  from  the  brute — poor  souls — no  souls — and  to  die  with  the 
brute ! " 

The  passionate  words  of  the  greatest  of  modern  English 
poets  *  clanged  through  his  brain ;  they  had  been  written  in 
1  Tennyson 


236  HOLY     ORDERS 

a  grand  scorn  for  the  scorners,  but  were  they  true?  And 
if  true,  why  should  life  be  lived  at  all,  when  there  was  noth- 
ing to  live  for  ?  Self-slaughter  might  be  called  cowardly,  but 
surely  self-deception  was  its  equal  in  cowardice? 

A  mellow  measured  sound  here  boomed  upon  his  ears, 
— it  was  the  church  clock  striking  midnight.  The  house  was 
very  silent, — he  supposed  the  servants  had  gone  to  bed.  He 
had  no  idea  that  they  were  all  sitting  up  together  in  the 
kitchen  talking  in  frightened  whispers  over  the  day's  ghastly 

tragedy listening  for  the  slightest  movement  on  his  part, 

and  ready  to  guard  him  from  any  reckless  act  of  grief  or  des- 
peration he  might  be  moved  to  commit.  He  did  not  know 
that  Douay  was  likewise  on  the  alert,  waiting  watchfully  in 
his  bedroom  with  the  door  just  slightly  ajar,  so  that  he 
could  hear  even  the  lightest  footfall.  Douay  indeed  was 
sorely  troubled — he  did  not  know  what  to  do  for  the  best. 
He  murmured  many  Pater  Nosters  and  Ave  Marias  me- 
chanically out  of  old  routine  and  habit,  but  felt  that  they 
were  wholly  inadequate  to  meet  the  occasion.  His  impres- 
sionable and  kindly  nature  was  easily  moved  to  tears,  and 
he  wept  freely  over  the  fate  of  the  winsome  little  woman 
for  whom  he  had  felt  an  almost  paternal  affection  and 
friendship.  How  horrible  it  had  been  to  see  her  lying  dead 
among  the  primroses! — how  horrible!  He  had  gone  to  the 
woods,  walking  gayly  along,  light  of  heart  and  thinking  no 
evil  of  any  man,  every  now  and  then  whistling  by  way  of  a 
call  to  her, — he  had  found  her  pretty  hat  with  its  blue  rib- 
bon lying  among  the  last  year's  leaves,  and  he  had  picked 
it  up  and  swung  it  on  his  arm.  Then  he  had  whistled 

again and  then then he  had  seen  her  lying  face 

downward  on  the  ground,  with  the  blood  oozing  through  her 

white  garments! and  he  had  rushed  to  a  farm  close  by 

crying  wildly  for  help! 

"  Ah  mon  Dieu !  "  he  sighed  now,  as  he  went  over  the 

terrible  experience  again  and  again  in  his  mind "  What 

a  cruelty!  What  a  crime!  Will  all  the  saints  and  angels 
explain  why  such  a  thing  should  be?  La  pauvre  petite! 
What  had  she  done  that  she  should  meet  with  such  an 
end!  A  pretty  innocent  little  soul — as  harmless  as  a  bird 
or  a  butterfly!  And  Richard  so  loved  her! — poor  Richard! 


HOLY    ORDERS  -237 

A  possible  great  man!  Will  his  life  be  quite  broken 
now or ' ' 

A  slight  noise  as  of  an  opening  door  startled  him.  He 
listened,  scarcely  breathing — but  for  the  moment  there  was 
no  further  sound. 

"  Of  course  the  man — • — Kiernan was  drunk," — he 

went  on  reflecting — "  And  so  it  is  Mr.  Minchin  who  is  the 
real  murderer!  Have  I  not  warned  this  brewer?  I  have — 

many  times !  I  say  to  him  '  Kiernan  is  dangerous there 

will  be  mischief ! '  But  he  paid  no  heed — he  is  all  grin  and 
grab.  He  rules  this  foolish  place  where  the  gospel  is  not 
Christianity,  but  Drink.  He  is  the  little  god  of  the  dull 
brain  and  potbelly!  And  hundreds  of  such  little  gods 
ride  on  the  backs  of  the  poor  English  people,  keeping  them 
in  slavery  worse  than  that  of  the  dungeon  and  chain.  And 
how  strange  are  the  Governments  which  punish  crime,  and 
yet  do  nothing  to  prevent  it !  " 

The  noise  of  the  opening  door  downstairs  was  repeated, 
and  this  time  it  was  followed  by  the  movement  of  foot- 
steps. Cautiously  Douay  peered  out  through  the  aperture 
of  his  own  doorway  and  saw  Everton  coming  slowly  up  the 
stairs.  His  face  was  deathly  pale,  and  he  was  talking  to 
himself  as  he  came. 

"  I  must  go  to  my  wife !  " — he  said,  whisperingly — "  I 
must  look  upon  her  once  more  as  she  lies  asleep — and  then — 
then  I  will  sleep  too beside  her !  " 

Douay  anxiously  watched  him,  himself  unseen,  as  he  went 
by  with  unfaltering  tread  straight  to  the  room  where 
Azalea's  body  lay, — the  room  that  had  mutually  belonged  to 
husband  and  wife.  He  saw  him  open  the  door  and  hesitate 
— then  enter  and  shut  himself  in. 

A  rush  of  tears  to  the  little  priest's  eyes  blurred  everything 
from  his  view. 

"Poor,  poor  fellow!"  he  said  softly; — "If  he  could 
only  cry  like  a  woman  it  would  do  him  good!  His  brain  is 

on  fire  with  sorrow or  else  it  is  frozen  with  despair; — 

perhaps  the  sight  of  her,  so  calm,  so  peaceful,  so  angelic,  may 

touch  the  fount  of  healing!  As  for  me 1  will  pray  for 

him! but  God  forgive  me  if  I  say  for  once  it  seems 

but  little  use !  " 


238  HOLY     ORDERS 

And  with  that  he  smote  his  breast  and  muttered  "  Mea 
culpa,  mea  maxima  culpa !  "  many  times  for  this  rash  utter- 
ance, which  according  to  the  teaching  of  his  Church  amounted 
to  that  '  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,'  known  as  presumption 
of  God's  mercy,  and  kneeling  down,  he  buried  his  head  in 
his  hands,  and  earnestly  and  unselfishly  besought  the  loving 
pity  of  Heaven  for  his  bereaved  and  suffering  friend. 

Meanwhile,  little  Laurence,  sleeping  as  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  do,  all  alone  in  his  nursery,  was  disturbed  and 
frightened  by  a  strange  dream.  He  thought  he  saw  his 
mother  standing  near  him, — there  was  a  pale  brightness  all 
round  her  like  summer  moonlight,  and  she  had  a  white  dress 
on  and  a  wreath  of  white  shining  flowers  in  her  hair.  She 

looked  at  him  and  said,  very  gently "  Father  wants  you, 

darling!"  And  he  was  so  sleepy  that  he  could  not  quite 
understand  her, — so  he  rubbed  his  eyes  with  his  two  doubled- 
up  little  fists  and  for  a  moment  only  stared  at  her  without 
speaking.  Then  she  came  closer  to  his  bedside  and  bent  over 
him,  and  kissed  him; — her  kiss  was  so  quick  and  light  and 
warm  that  it  was  like  a  flame,  and  the  touch  of  it  woke  him 
up.  Yes,  he  was  sure  he  was  wide  awake,  and  equally  sure 
that  his  mother  stood  there  smiling  at  him,  though  her  face 
was  very  sad, — and  she  said  again — "  Baby  dear,  father 
wants  you!"  And  he  was  sorry  he  had  not  jumped  up 
before  in  obedience  to  her  call,  but  he  answered  now  at  once 
— "All  right,  Mummy!  Are  you  better?"  To  this  she 
did  not  reply,  and  when  he  looked  at  her  again  she  was 
gone!  He  slipped  hastily  out  of  bed,  and  stood  shivering  in 
his  little  nightgown,  thinking  and  wondering  what  he  ought 
to  do.  Nurse  Tomkins  slept  in  the  next  room,  and  there 
was  an  open  door  between — should  he  call  her  and  tell  her 
that  his  mother  had  come  in  to  see  him  ?  No, — he  decided  it 
would  be  best  to  do  exactly  what  Mummy  had  told  him, 
and  go  to  Dad  first.  So  he  opened  the  nursery  door  very 
softly  and  pattered  out  with  his  little  bare  feet  on  the  stair- 
case landing,  which  was  almost  dark,  save  for  the  glimmer 
of  a  gas  burner  turned  low  down.  He  paused,  a  trifle  scared. 
His  mother's  bedroom  was  immediately  opposite,  and  he 
was  just  making  up  his  mind  to  go  thither  when  some  one 
came  out  of  it — *— a  strange,  drooping  figure  of  a  man,  with 
a  wild,  white  haggard  face  and  disheveled  hair, — a  man 


HOLY    ORDERS  239 

piteous  and  terrible  to  look  at,  whose  distraught  eyes  glared 
stonily  in  front  of  him  as  though  fixed  on  some  monstrous 

vision  of  hell.  Was  it could  it  be  his  father?  His  little 

heart  beat  fast  with  fear, — he  ran  a  step  or  two  forward 

"  Dad,  Dad!  "  he  cried — "  Mother  says  you  want  me!  " 

Everton  reeled  back  from  him,  struck  by  sudden  awe. 
*  Mother  says ' !  '  Mother ! '  With  hands  uplifted  as 
though  to  ward  off  a  blow  or  a  blessing,  he  stared  vaguely  at 
the  little  white  thing  shining  out  of  the  night's  blackness, — 
the  little  white  thing  with  its  crown  of  golden  curls  that 

ran  towards  him  trembling  on  its  small  bare  feet what 

what  was  it?  A  child? or  an  angel?  Azalea  was 

dead  in  the  room  behind  there! — he  had  tried  to  rouse  her 
with  kisses  and  prayers, — he  had  knelt  beside  her,  watching 
for  some  small  sign  of  returning  life  that  should  respond  to 

his  entreating  love in  vain!  And  now had  she  sent 

a  messenger  from  heaven  to  comfort  him?  Look  at  it!  It 
seemed  afraid  of  him!  Its  sweet  small  voice  cried  again 
plaintively 

"Dad,  Dad!     Mother  says  you  want  me!" 

A  nervous  shuddering  seized  him, there  was  a  tight- 
ness in  his  throat  and  he  felt  as  though  he  were  choking. 

Involuntarily  he  stretched  out  his  arms then  he  gave 

a  great  agonized  cry 

"  Laurence,  Laurence !  I  had  forgotten  you !  God  for- 
give me,  I  had  forgotten!  Her  child — mine — life  of  our 
lives!  Oh  yes,  I  want  you,  my  darling! — God  knows  I 

want  you! come come come  to  me! — I  want 

you,  my  little,  little  child !  " 

Falling  on  his  knees,  he  gathered  up  the  frightened  boy 
closely  in  his  arms,  and  wild  sobs  broke  from  him,  hard  and 
passionate,  while  the  tears,  released  at  last  from  their  burn- 
ing prison,  rained  down  on  the  soft  golden  head  which  he 
pressed  against  his  breast  with  a  force  of  which  he  was  him- 
self unconscious. 

"  I  had  forgotten  you,"  he  cried,  again "  I  was  ready 

to  curse  God  for  His  cruelty  to  me ! and  I  had  forgotten 

you!" 


CHAPTER   XIV 

iAN  KIERNAN  meantime  had  managed  to  get  clear 
away.  When  he  had  fled  from  the  scene  of  his  crime, 
his  first  impulse  was  to  make  for  a  railway  station  and  take 
train  to  the  nearest  seaport,  from  whence  he  hazily  considered 
he  might  easily  escape  on  board  some  trading  vessel  outward 
bound;  his  next  idea  was  to  tramp  it  along  the  high-road 
towards  London  and  boldly  risk  the  chances  of  arrest.  In 
this  latter  course  fortune  favored  him,  for  he  had  not  gone 
above  a  mile  when  he  found  a  man  in  difficulties  with  the 
mechanism  of  a  motor-car.  It  was  not  a  finished  upholstered 
vehicle, — it  was  merely  the  body  of  a  '  racer,'  and  its  driver 
had  been  testing  its  highest  rate  of  speed,  when  some  trifling 
thing  had  gone  wrong,  and  he  had  cursed  his  unlucky  stars 
for  having  brought  him  to  a  dead  stoppage  in  the  middle  of  a 
solitary  road  without  a  house  anywhere  near,  when  the  help 
of  an  extra  hand  for  a  few  moments  would  have  set  his  ap- 
paratus going  again  in  working  order.  Kiernan  came  up 
just  in  time  to  render  the  required  assistance,  and  by  way 
of  gratitude  for  his  services  the  man  asked  him  if  he  would 
like  a  ride  on  the  car,  explaining  that  he  meant  to  drive  it  at 
the  rate  of  forty  or  fifty  miles  an  hour  '  steady,'  except  where 
there  were  likely  to  be  police  traps  about. 

"  Where  are  ye  goin'  to  ?  "  Dan  asked. 

"  London." 

"  Right  y'are !  That'll  do  for  me !  "  and  without  further 
parley  he  took  the  offered  seat  beside  the  driver  and  was 
whirled  away  in  a  cloud  of  dust  impregnated  with  the 
stench  of  petrol.  It  was  a  little  after  seven  when  they 
started  and  by  quarter-past  eight  they  had  left  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Cotswolds  far  behind  them  and  were  scud- 
ding through  another  county  at  a  speed  which  set  all  laws 
for  motorists  at  defiance.  No  one  had  seen  Dan  mount  the 
car, — the  road  where  he  had  picked  up  his  unexpected  friend 
in  need,  had  been  quite  deserted  at  the  time,  and  even  in 
the  plowed  fields  on  either  side  there  was  not  so  much  as  a 

240 


HOLY    ORDERS  241 

stray  laborer  left  working  after  sunset,  so  that  no  trace  was 
left  of  him  as  to  how  or  where  he  had  gone. 

He  realized  this  with  a  sullen  sense  of  satisfaction, — his 
brain  was  still  heavy  and  confused  with  drink,  though  like 
many  sodden  brutes  of  his  type  he  had  the  appearance  of  be- 
ing sober.  He  sat  and  watched  the  hedgerows,  the  trees,  the 
farms,  the  scattered  villages  all  fly  past  him,  as  it  were,  in  the 
maddest  hurry, — the  air  lashed  his  face  like  a  stinging  wave  of 
water, — the  skies  and  the  earth  mingled  gradually  into  one 
gray  monotone  of  color  as  the  evening  darkened  slowly  down. 
One  curious  cluster  of  unnaturally  bright  spots  remained 
with  him,  however,  and  always  danced  in  front  of  his  eyes — 
a  gleam  of  yellow,  as  of  primroses  in  bloom, — a  whiteness, 
as  of  a  woman's  garment, — and  a  dark  red  stain,  as  of  blood. 
He  was  worried  by  these  vivid  flickerings  of  memory, — yet 
he  knew  quite  well  what  they  were.  He  knew  he  had  killed 
Mrs.  Everton, — the  '  dolly  wife  '  as  he  had  called  her, — and 
he  was  not  sorry.  He  was  vaguely  frightened  when  he 
thought  of  it,  but  he  was  not  sorry.  There  was  no  peni- 
tence or  regret  within  him.  In  a  dull  sort  of  way  he  tried 
to  argue  with  himself  that  it  had  to  be.  His  clouded 
thoughts  constantly  reverted  to  Jacynth  with  a  bitterness 
none  the  less  intense  because  familiar  and  futile.  The  only 
girl  he  ever  loved ! — the  only  girl  he  ever  loved — He  repeated 
this  over  and  over  again  till  it  set  itself  like  a  worded 
refrain  to  the  rush  of  the  car.  She  was  a  real  beauty,  she 
wasl 

And  he  had  been  robbed  of  her!  Never,  never  should 
he  forget  the  night  when  he  went  home  to  his  cottage  meaning 
to  be  kind  and  gentle  to  worn  and  ailing  Jennie,  and  she  had 
begun  to  cry  and  speak  of  Jacynth,  and  to  say  how  parson's 
wife  had  told  her  a  tale, — and  he  had  sworn  at  her  and 
rushed  out  of  the  house  cursing  her  for  a  shrew  and  a  burden 
on  his  life.  Then  he  had  gone  to  find  Jacynth,  and  she 
had  mocked  him  and  said  she  was  tired  of  him,  and  that  she 
was  going  away  from  hateful  Shadbrook,  where  there  was 
nothing  but  tale-bearing  and  mischief-making  all  day  and 
all  night.  And  driven  half  mad  between  the  two  women, 
sweetheart  and  wife,  he  had  gone  and  drunk  himself  blind 
and  silly,  and  then  Jacynth  had  left  the  village  without  so 


242  HOLY     ORDERS 

much  as  a  good-by.  And — Jennie  had  died — poor  Jennie! 
— and  all  this  peck  of  trouble  had  been  brought  about  by  the 
'  dolly  wife ' — the  little  baby-faced  creature  he  had  just  left 
lying  dead  among  the  primroses.  He  had  killed  her, — and 
now  he  admitted  to  himself  that  he  had  meant  to  kill  her. 
But  it  would  be  easy  to  swear  that  the  gun  went  off  by  acci- 
dent. Then  there  would  be  a  verdict  of  manslaughter, — 
not  murder — not  murder.  He  would  escape  hanging  some- 
how,— he  was  quite  sure  of  that.  The  law  was  merciful 
nowadays !  If  the  halfpenny  newspapers  were  to  be  believed, 
law  really  existed  more  for  the  protection  than  the  punish- 
ment of  criminals.  Some  needy  barrister  would  take  up  his 
case  and  make  a  reputation  out  of  it !  These  and  many  other 
stupid  and  half-formed  ideas  and  plans  occupied  his  brain  as 
he  was  borne  swiftly  along  over  miles  and  miles  of  open 
country, — there  was  no  necessity  to  talk.  His  companion  was 
not  communicative,  being  absorbed  in  the  business  of  driv- 
ing the  car,  and  when  he  spoke  at  all  it  was  only  to  praise 
his  machine's  racing  abilities.  At  about  nine  o'clock  they 
entered  a  small  town,  where,  in  the  center  of  the  principal 
street,  the  tempting  signal  lights  of  a  showy  public-house 
flared  brilliantly  through  the  darkness.  Here  Kiernan  sug- 
gested a  stoppage  and  a  drink. 

"  I've  gone  far  enough  for  to-night," — he  said — "  And 
I'm  much  obliged  t'ye  for  the  finest  ride  I've  ever  had !  " 
He  laughed  at  this  and  repeated  it.  "  The  finest  ride  I've 
ever  had !  Come  an'  'ave  a  glass  afore  we  parts  company !  " 

The  driver  shook  his  head. 

"  Thanks,  I'd  rather  not !  "  he  answered,  very  decidedly 
— "  I'm  bound  to  get  this  car  to  London  to-night,  and  I 
want  all  my  nerve.  The  stuff  they  sell  in  these  sort  of 
places," — and  he  indicated  the  public-house  with  a  jerk  of 
his  finger — "  is  just  rank  poison.  Besides  I'm  a  temperance 
man." 

"  Temp'rance ! "  Kiernan  gave  a  loud  guffaw  as  the  car 
stopped  and  he  dismounted — "  Or  teetotal  ?  " 

"  No,  not  teetotal," — said  the  man,  good-humoredly — 
"  I've  never  taken  the  pledge.  Just  temperance." 

"  Oh !  " — and  Kiernan's  heavy  face  darkened—"  An' 
what's  the  good  of  temp'rance  to  ye?  Eh?  What's  the 
good?" 


HOLY    ORDERS  243 

The  man  smiled. 

"  Well,  I  get  better  wages  to  begin  with," — he  replied — 
"  And  I'm  trusted  by  my  firm.  That's  something." 

"  Oh  ay!  That's  something,"  assented  Dan,  grudgingly — 
"  But  it  isn't  enjoyin'  life.  We  can't  only  live  once,  an'  I 
sez  let's  get  all  we  can  out  of  it  afore  we  dies  an'  'as  done 
with  it "  He  broke  off  suddenly,  with  a  scared  look. 

The  man  looked  at  him  curiously — then  nodded. 

"Every  one  to  his  liking!"  he  said — "Some  folks  are 
happiest  drunk,  and  others  are  more  comfortable  sober.  Live 
and  let  live!  Good-night!  " 

"  Stop  a  bit!  "  and  Kiernan  stared  confusedly  about  him — 
"  We've  come  along  so  fast  that  I  don't  rightly  know  where- 
abouts I  am.  What  part  o'  the  country  is  this  ?  " 

"  We're  in  Wiltshire  just  now,"  answered  the  car-driver 
— "  And  this  is  a  nice  little  town  enough  to  stay  in.  You'll' 
find  all  you  want  in  there," — here  he  pointed  again  to  the 
public-house — "  Good  beds  and  the  usual  tipple!  Wish  you 
a  pleasant  evening!  " 

And  in  another  moment,  with  a  droning  whirr  as  of  the 
wings  of  a  monstrous  dragon-fly,  he  was  off  and  out  of 
sight. 

With  his  departure  a  sudden  sense  of  overpowering  loneli- 
ness fell  on  Kiernan.  He  stood  transfixed,  lacking  all 
power  and  energy  to  move.  He  had  not  thought  he  should 
feel  like  this  when  left  to  himself.  The  night  seemed  to  close 
round  him  like  a  black  circle  suggestive  of  dark  prison  walls, 
— there  was  no  way  out  of  it.  A  great  dread  was  upon 
him  to  an  extent  he  had  never  imagined  possible.  He  began 
calculating  how  long  it  was  likely  to  be  before  the  police 
started  on  his  track.  He  knew  how  slowly  things  were 
done  in  Shadbrook;  he  knew  it  would  take  a  considerable 
time  to  get  in  touch  with  the  proper  authorities, — they 
would  have  to  make  out  a  warrant  for  his  arrest,  and  the 
only  magistrate  whose  residence  was  anywhere  near  the 
village  was  Squire  Hazlitt,  of  Shadbrook  Hall,  and  he  was 
in  London.  They  would  have  to  go  further  afield  for  a 
legal  signature,  and  all  the  journeying  to  and  fro  for  the 
completion  of  the  necessary  formalities  was  so  much  loss 
to  them  and  gain  to  him.  He  had  heard  the  clock  strike  six 
just  before  he  had  left  the  primrose  wood, — now  it  was  past 


244  HOLY     ORDERS 

nine.  Six  to  seven,  seven  to  eight,  eight  to  nine!  Three 
whole  hours  since — since  the  murder !  Much  might  be 
done  in  three  hours,  especially  in  these  days  of  rapid  tele- 
graphic and  telephonic  communication, — too  much  for  his 
complete  safety. 

Vague  and  innumerable  terrors  rose  up  in  his  mind; — he 
tried — he  was  always  trying — to  forget  the  small  white  fallen 
figure  lying  face  downward  among  last  autumn's  brown 
leaves  and  the  spring  primroses.  When  they  found  her, 
what  would  be  said?  That  Dan  Kiernan  had  killed  her, 
of  course,  because  his  discharged  gun  was  lying  beside  her. 
Why  had  he  been  such  a  fool  as  to  leave  his  gun  there? 
Never  mindl  it  would  show  them  he  was  not  afraid  of 
being  caught.  He  had  plenty  of  pluck, — he  would  brave  it 
out!  Would  they  find  her  body  soon,  he  wondered?  Yea, 
surely! — she  would  be  missed  from  home — her  husband 
would  probably  go  and  look  for  her, — and  at  this  thought 
he  burst  into  a  loud  and  involuntary  fit  of  laughter.  The 
noise  of  it,  echoing  through  the  quiet  street  in  which  he 
stood,  frightened  him.  He  began  to  tremble  violently.  Then 
he  looked  about  him  and  saw  the  bright  lights  of  the  public- 
house,  twinkling  their  devil's  welcome  to  homeless  wander- 
ers. His  fears  suddenly  subsided.  Drink!  That  was  the 
cure  for  all  trouble!  That  would  make  a  man  forget  that 
he  had  a  murder  on  his  soul !  Drink !  The  burning  poison 
that  leaps  at  once  to  the  brain,  scorching  every  delicate  cell 
and  withering  up  every  pulsation  of  thought,  memory  or 
regret!  Drink!  He  had  his  week's  wages  in  his  pocket — 
he  would  drink  every  penny  of  the  money!  He  would 
drink  to-night  as  he  had  never  drunk  before,  even  if  he  died 
for  it !  There  were  nearly  two  hours  yet  before  the  bar 
would  close — he  would  not  waste  another  moment  of  that 
precious  portion  of  time!  There  was  companionship  in  the 
warm  and  well-lit  hostelry, — he  could  hear  men's  voices 
mingling  with  laughter  and  singing; — once  in  there  he 
would  escape  from  the  cold  lonely  silence  of  the  night  and 
the  blackness  of  the  sky  which  arched  over  him  like  a  vast 
dome  faintly  bespangled  with  stars, — and  he  would  cease  to 
listen — as  he  was  half  unconsciously  listening  now — for  the 
tramp  of  feet  that  should  follow  him  up  and  march  beside 
him  to  jail, — for  the  first  word  that  should  make  him  the 


HOLY     ORDERS  245 

prisoner  of  the  law  till  his  crime  was  either  condoned  or 
expiated.  He  pushed  open  the  door  of  the  public-house  and 
entered, — it  swung  heavily  to  behind  him. 

For  a.  long  time  the  street  outside  remained  quite  empty 
and  deserted.  Towards  eleven  o'clock  some  of  the  cus- 
tomers at  the  bar  came  out,  more  or  less  the  worse  for  their 
potations,  and  with  hoarse  good-nights,  went  their  several 
ways  steadily  or  staggerly ; — a  smart-looking  young  woman, 
wearing  a  white  blouse,  with  her  hair  dressed  to  an  exag- 
gerated height  above  her  forehead,  opened  one  of  the  win- 
dows and  looked  out,  leaning  her  bare  arms  across  the  sill 
and  smiling  impudently  at  the  departing  topers, — till  all 
suddenly  there  came  a  louder  clamor  of  men's  tongues  raised 
in  angry  altercation. 

"  Out  you  go !  "  shouted  one  rough  voice — "  No  drunk- 
ards allowed  on  these  'ere  premises  1  " 

"  If  'e  won't  go  through  the  door,  chuck  'im  out  o*  win- 
der! "  cried  another. 

A  furious  scuffling  and  stamping  ensued,  accompanied  by 
a  volley  of  oaths  and  such  coarse  language  as  is  unfortunately 
common  to  the  British  working-man  when  under  the  influ- 
ence of  anger  or  alcohol, — then  the  door  of  the  public-house 
was  violently  thrown  open  and  held  back,  while  with  un- 
friendly force  Dan  Kiernan  was  dragged  forward  by  several 
pairs  of  hands  which  literally  flung  him  into  the  street, 
where  he  fell  heavily  full  length,  cutting  his  face  and  bruis- 
ing his  body  severely.  This  done,  the  door  was  quickly 
banged  to  and  barred, — the  lights  in  the  windows  were  all 
extinguished,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  erstwhile  brilliantly 
illuminated  house  presented  a  closed  dark  exterior  to  the 
quiet  night. 

The  wretched  heap  of  man,  hurled  into  the  gutter  by 
those  who  had  made  profit  of  his  wretchedness,  lay  for  some 
time  inert, — then  after  many  futile  attempts,  he  at  last  man- 
aged to  rise,  first  into  a  sitting  posture,  and  finally  to  his 
feet.  Swaying  unsteadily  backwards  and  forwards,  with  the 
blood  trickling  from  a  gash  on  his  forehead,  no  hat  on, 
and  his  clothes  torn  and  disheveled,  he  was  a  shameful, 
pitiful  object, — a  creature  far  worse  of  aspect  than  any  beast 
of  the  field, — a  disgrace  to  the  very  name  of  humanity.  Yet 
drugged  and  stupefied  as  he  was,  some  feeble  glimmering 


246  HOLY     ORDERS 

of  reason  flickered  in  his  poisoned  brain,  for  as  soon  as  he 
found  himself  standing  upright,  he  shook  his  clenched  fist 
at  the  black  frontage  of  the  tavern  from  which  he  had 
been  so  summarily  ejected. 

"  Curse  ye!  "  he  said,  savagely — "  Curse  ye  for  a  damned 
dirty  cheat  and  liar!  Takin'  my  money  as  long  as  there 
was  any  to  get,  an'  kickin'  me  out  when  my  pockets  was 
cleared!  Curse  ye!  May  ye  drown  yerselves  in  yer  own 
devil's  brew  and  go  to  h — 11  in  it! " 

Choking  with  rage,  he  shook  his  fist  again  threateningly 
and  staggered  away.  Reeling  down  the  street,  with  no  idea 
where  he  was  going,  he  came  in  contact  with  a  lamp-post 
and  nearly  fell  headlong,  but  righting  himself  by  a  miracle, 
suddenly  caught  sight  of  his  own  shadow  flung  on  the  op- 
posite wall  by  the  reflection  of  the  gaslight  above  him.  It 
was  a  hideously  magnified  and  distorted  shadow,  and  he 
charged  at  it  furiously. 

"  Come  on !  "  he  shouted — "  Follerin'  me  an*  spyin'  on 
me,  are  ye,  ye  great  hulkin'  fool!  Wants  a  good  all-round 
bruisin',  does  ye?  All  right! — 'ere  y'are  an'  welcome!  I'll 
pound  ye  into  a  jelly  for  five  shillin's!  Come  on!  " 

He  ran  forward  and  drove  his  fist  hard  into  the  wall, — 
the  shock  and  pain  of  the  impact  forced  him  to  realize  the 
absurdity  of  his  action,  and  he  began  to  laugh  boisterously. 
His  laughter  was  so  long  and  wild  and  loud,  that  it  brought 
a  woman  to  the  door  of  a  small  house  close  by — a  pale, 
weak,  terrified-looking  woman  who,  with  a  morsel  of  lighted 
candle  in  her  hand,  peered  out  at  him  with  scared  colorless 
eyes. 

"  Is  that  you,  Bill  ?  "  she  asked. 

Dan  stared  at  her. 

"  No,  'tain't  Bill — it's  me!  "  he  said,  with  a  stupid  leer — 
41  Why  are  ye  up  so  late,  my  darlin' !  Wantin'  Bill,  eh  ? 
Who's  'e?" 

The  woman  drew  back,  startled. 

"  Bill's  my  husband," — she  answered — "  He's  generally 
bad  with  the  drink, — I  thought  'twas  him." 

She  retreated,  and  he  shouted  after  her — 

"  'Ere,  old  girl !  Stop  a  bit !  Which  is  the  road  to 
London?" 

She  put  out  a  thin  hand  and  pointed  down  the  street. 


HOLY    ORDERS  247 

"  That  way — straight  ahead,  if  you're  trampin'  it," — she 
said. 

And  with  that  she  shut  and  locked  the  door. 

He  waited  a  minute,  trying  to  understand  what  he  in- 
tended next  to  do  with  himself.  Then  he  started  off  to  walk, 
or  rather  to  stumble  along  in  the  direction  she  had  indi- 
cated. Nothing  seemed  '  straight  ahead  '  to  him, — it  was  all 
crooked — all  up  hill  and  down  dale.  Rough  edges  in  the 
pavement  rose  up  like  waves  of  the  sea,  and  sank  again  as  his 
foot  touched  them.  Circles  of  light  swam  before  his  eyes 
and  broke  up  into  saw-edged  fragments  of  prismatic  color 
as  he  watched  them, — the  darkness  of  the  night  swirled 
round  him  like  a  giant  wheel  with  such  velocity  that  some- 
times he  stupidly  threw  out  his  hands  to  try  and  stop  its 
incessant  gyrations.  The  freshness  of  the  air  rather  increased 
than  relieved  his  sensations,  and  he  sidled  about  and  rolled 
forward  on  his  way  more  like  a  shapeless  block  of  driftwood 
in  a  swift  stream  than  a  human  being  capable  of  self-volition. 
Presently  he  found  himself  on  an  open  country  road,  with 
wide  fields  extending  on  either  side.  The  town  he  had  just 
left  lay  behind  him,  its  few  twinkling  lights  sparkling  dimly 
like  glow-worms  on  a  smooth  lawn.  Some  clumps  of  trees, 
with  their  lower  branches  lopped  off  in  the  hideous  fashion 
ordained  of  county  councils,  waved  their  heads  solemnly 
to  and  fro  in  a  light  rising  wind  like  funereal  plumes  set 
on  the  hearse  of  a  dead  nature, — to  his  giddy  and  confused 
brain  they  looked  like  inexplicable  tall  objects  with  wildly 
trimmed  hats  on,  bobbing  and  bowing  at  him  in  impudent 
mockery.  He  shook  his  fists  at  them  and  shouted  idiotic 
nothings.  He  found  enjoyment  in  shaking  his  fists, — the 
action  amused  and  invigorated  him.  He  felt  that  he  was 
hitting  some  weak  creature  that  had  no  power  to  hit  him 
back  again,  and  there  was  a  pleasure  in  thus  playing  the 
bully-coward.  He  began  to  sing,  or  rather  to  howl  scraps 
of  comic  music-hall  ditties,  and  staggered  from  side  to  side 
of  the  solitary  high-road,  bellowing  more  discordantly  than 
an  angry  swine.  By-and-bye  he  took  to  dancing,  and  for  a 
considerable  time  entertained  himself  by  uncouth  caperings 
which  scattered  the  dust  around  him  in  clouds, — then,  as  if 
moved  by  an  impetus  not  his  own,  he  started  running  as 
though  for  a  race.  He  went  perhaps  more  than  half  a  mile 


248  HOLY     ORDERS 

at  this  rate  before  he  tripped  over  a  large  stone  and  fell  flat 
on  a  stretch  of  grass  by  the  roadside.  The  grass  was  wet 
and  soft — its  cool  contact  refreshed  his  heated  body,  and  he 
raised  himself  into  a  comfortable  sitting  posture,  clasping 
his  knees  with  both  arms.  His  head  still  buzzed  and  whirled, 
— but  a  few  wandering  thoughts  commenced  rising,  like 
phosphorescent  fires  out  of  his  muddled  swamp  of  brain, 
— thoughts  that  were  not  connected  so  much  with  the  present, 
as  with  the  past.  He  seemed  to  see  himself  as  a  young  man, 
tall,  fresh-colored,  with  bright  eyes,  and  a  healthy  vigorous 
frame, — a  young  man  who  had  good  work  and  could  earn 
good  wages,  and  who  was  thought  well  of  by  his  employers. 
A  picture  of  Jennie  his  wife,  as  he  had  known  her  first, 
presented  itself  all  unexpectedly  before  him — Jennie,  a  little, 
shy,  gentle  girl  with  pretty  brown  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  a 
smile  that  went  straight  to  a  man's  heart.  How  loving  she 
had  been! — poor  Jennie!  He  had  married  her  and  they  had 
been  happy, — happy  save  for  the  loss  of  their  two  children 
who  had  died  in  infancy.  And  she — she  was  dead  too  now, 
was  Jennie, — he  had  seen  her  lying  like  a  figure  of  old  wax 
in  her  coffin.  And  now — why,  now  she  was  here — actually 
here,  staring  at  him! — the  figure  of  old  wax  with  the  black 
coffin-edge  framing  her  in  like  the  frame  of  a  picture!  He 
gave  a  horrified  cry. 

"  Go  away !  "  he  yelled,  in  an  access  of  delirious  terror — 
"Go  away!  You're  dead!  Dead  an'  buried!  What  d'ye 
want  with  me  ?  " 

Then,  as  the  dream-impression  faded,  he  laughed  fool- 
ishly and  wondered  why  he  had  thought  of  Jennie  at  all  or 
of  the  days  when  he  was  young. 

He  got  up  and  began  to  walk  again, — he  was  steadier  on 
his  feet  now,  and  he  kept  on  a  fairly  straight  line  of  move- 
ment. He  realized  that  the  stars  were  shining  above  him 
in  the  black-azure  April  sky,  and  after  a  little  while  he  was 
able  to  distinguish  his  way  along  the  road  by  their  pale  yet 
certain  light.  His  steps  grew  firmer  and  more  regular,  and 
the  swaying  movement  of  his  body  gradually  subsided.  Some 
of  the  fumes  of  drink  were  clearing  off,  though  he  was  none 
the  less  heavily  drunk.  His  thinking  powers,  never  very 
great,  now  sprang  into  unusual  and  abnormal  activity,  but 
instead  of  wandering  like  will-o'-the-wisps  in  and  out  the 


HOLY    ORDERS  249 

poison-clogged  cells  of  his  brain,  they  brought  forward 
prominent  and  exaggerated  shapes  that  seemed  to  detach 
themselves  from  his  own  personality  and  surround  him  like 
separate  ghostly  tormentors.  Chief  among  them  came  the 
tall  slender  figure  of  '  Parson '  Everton, — the  man  with  the 
pale,  resolute  face  and  deep-set  eyes — the  man  whose  voice 
with  its  mellow,  steady  tone  had  in  a  certain  sense  moved  him 
to  shame  when  he  heard  it  saying  '  God  forgive  you ! '  He 
remembered  that  incident  in  its  every  detail.  He,  Dan 
Kiernan,  had  uttered  vague  threats  against  Mrs.  Everton 
in  her  husband's  presence,  and  that  husband,  hearing  him, 
had  replied  simply  in  one  phrase — '  God  forgive  you ! '  And 
now  ?  When  '  Parson  '  should  see  his  '  dolly  wife '  dead, 
with  the  blood  oozing  and  creeping  through  her  white  gown 
as  he,  her  murderer,  had  seen  it  ooze  and  creep,  would  he 
still  say  '  God  forgive  you  '  ?  He  wondered.  A  sudden 
shivering  nausea  seized  him,  and  great  drops  of  sweat  broke 
out  on  his  forehead.  He  stopped  a  moment  and  looked  about 
him.  Hush!  What  was  that?  A  woman's  cry?  He  lis- 
tened, his  whole  body  thrilling  with  inexplicable  fear.  A 
bird  flew  past  him  with  a  whirr  of  beating  wings,  repeating 
the  cry — it  was  a  small  downy  owl.  His  -eyes  followed  the 
flight  of  the  creature  with  an  uneasy  sense  of  superstitious 
dread.  He  listened  again.  There  was  not  a  sound  anywhere 
except  the  low  murmur  of  the  wind.  Long,  wide,  monoto- 
nous and  solitary,  the  road  stretched  on  and  on  before  him, 
— there  was  no  sign  of  a  house  or  even  a  last  year's  hay- 
stack anywhere.  It  was  one  gray  level  line,  extending  into 
indefinite  distance. 

He  trudged  on  again,  but  slowly  and  with  ever-increas- 
ing weariness, — his  limbs  ached,  and  a  throbbing  pain  began 
to  beat  in  his  head  like  a  small  sharp  hammer  hitting  nails 
into  every  nerve.  Yet  so  little  would  he  admit  to  himself 
that  drink  was  the  cause  of  his  physical  suffering,  that  if 
he  could  have  found  another  public-house  open  at  that  time 
of  night,  he  would  have  sold  the  coat  off  his  back  for  the 
worth  of  one  or  two  more  glasses  of  criminally  adulterated 
whisky.  His  thoughts  still  jumped  about  restlessly  like 
busy  and  officious  demons,  suggesting  this,  denying  that, 
and  calling  to  mind  half-forgotten  episodes  of  his  youth, 
before  he  had,  through  the  pernicious  example  of  other 


250  HOLY     ORDERS 

fellow-workmen,  fallen  step  by  step  into  the  degrading  vice 
which  now  dominated  him  body  and  soul, — and  burning 
waves  of  heated  blood  surged  up  to  his  face  and  temples 
like  blown  flame  from  a  furnace  as  he  tramped  doggedly  on, 
without  any  consciousness  of  his  own  intentions,  and  without 
any  actual  regret  for  the  crime  he  had  committed.  Presently 
his  swarming  fancies  took  a  new  and  violent  turn,  and  he 
could  have  sworn  he  saw  Jacynth  Miller  standing  right  in 
his  path  beckoning  to  him !  As  he  went  forward,  she  moved 
backward,  with  a  tantalizing,  floating  grace, — and  he  madly 
stretched  out  his  arms  to  catch  and  clasp  the  ever  elusive 
phantom  of  a  lost  delight. 

"Jacynth!  Jacynth!"  he  cried,  hoarsely, — and  he  has- 
tened his  steps — but  the  delicate  shape  still  retreated,  with 
a  laughing  light  in  the  large,  lovely  eyes  and  a  mocking 
smile  on  the  red  mouth.  He  ran  and  stumbled, — and  ran 
and  stumbled  again. 

"  Jacynth !  Jacynth  I  " 

Then  he  stopped,  breathless;  the  entrancing  vision  stopped 
also  and  held  out  slim,  white  appealing  hands.  Its  draperies 
shimmered  like  moonlight  and  dew,  and  through  them  his 
burning  eyes  could  discern  the  outline  of  fair  nude  limbs 
and  snowy  bosom  over  which  the  glorious  waves  of  loosened 
hair  fell  in  a  glossy  bronze-brown  shower! 

Pie  uttered  a  savage  cry,  and  made  an  equally  savage 
rush  at  the  exquisitely  beautiful  figure  that  seemed  to  invite 
and  wait  for  his  approach — he  almost  touched  it  as  he  thought, 
when  lo! — it  vanished  into  the  dark  air,  and  he  fell  prone 
in  the  dust,  torn  by  such  a  sudden  and  wild  delirium  as 
caused  him  to  roll  there  on  the  ground  in  a  kind  of  con- 
vulsion in  which  he  actually  set  his  teeth  in  the  flesh  of  his 
hands,  instinctively  seeking  to  counteract  and  relieve  the  ter- 
rible agony  and  tension  of  his  body  and  brain.  The  paroxysm 
passed,  leaving  him  as  weak  as  a  child  and  quite  exhausted; 
- — he  huddled  himself  up  on  the  spot  where  he  had  fallen, 
trembling  and  afraid  to  move.  His  eyes  were  hot  and 
heavy, — each  separate  hair  on  his  scalp  pricked  him  as 
though  it  were  burning  iron, — he  was  utterly,  forlornly  ill 
and  miserable, — and  putting  his  hands  before  his  face,  the 
huge  hulking  brute  gave  way  to  maudlin  tears. 

"  Jacynth,  my  gerl,  you're  main  'ard  on  me !  "  he  sobbed* 


HOLY    ORDERS  251 

abjectly — "  Main  'ard  y'are,  an'  I  doan't  care  now  what 
'appens  to  me, — let  'em  take  me  up  an'  put  me  to  prison — 
it's  all  one  to  poor  old  Dan!  Poor  old  Dan!  He  worn't 
'arf  a  bad  chap,  'e  worn't — 'e  was  real  mad  with  love  for 
ye,  Jacynth,  an'  ye  knows  it!  Stark  starin'  mad!  Poor 
Dan !  JE'd  a'  gone  through  all  the  bloomin'  'ell  fire  as  ever 
parsons  preached  of  to  please  ye,  'e  would!  That's  truel 
That's  God  A'mighty  true !  'E'd  a'  stole  anythin'  an'  killed 
any  thin'  just  for  a  kiss  from  your  little  mouth  of  'oney,  ye 
knows  'e  would!  Ye  could  a'  druv'  'im  anywheres  like  a 
bull  to  market,  ye  knows  ye  could!  Ah!  an'  I'd  a'  made 
short  work  o'  Jennie  too  if  ye'd  said  the  word — but  ye 
wouldn't  a'  married  me  if  I  'ad !  Ye  wanted  yer  own  way 
allus, — free  as  a  bird!  An'  Dan  let  ye  'ave  it — an'  now 
ye  runs  away  from  'im  an'  'e  doan't  want  nothin' — poor  old 
Dan! —  nothin'  but  a  good  sleep — a  good  sound  sleep — an* 
'e'll  dream  ye're  in  'is  arms,  Jacynth! — goin'  hush-a-bye! — 
dream  ye're  in  his  arms — comfortable  an'  lovin' — 'e'll  'ave 
a  good  sound  sleep " 

His  broken  and  querulous  accents  trailed  away  into  un- 
intelligible murmurs — his  limbs  gradually  relaxed,  and  pres- 
ently rolling  over  on  his  back  he  lay  helplessly  half  across 
the  road  in  a  lethargic  slumber,  his  arms  spread  out  on  either 
side  of  him  and  his  bloated  face  upturned  to  the  quiet 
stars. 

The  night  paced  on  for  an  hour  or  more  in  unbroken 
silence. 

Countless  millions  of  mysterious  unknown  worlds  swung 
in  their  golden  and  silver  orbits  above  the  wretched  creature 
who,  though  endowed  with  powers  of  speech,  thought  and 
action,  had  found  nothing  better  to  do  with  those  gifts  than 
to  willfully  degrade  all  three.  The  silent  forces  of  the  uni- 
verse, patiently  doing  their  work  in  obedience  to  Divine 
ordinance,  had,  so  far  as  this  one  miserable  unit  of  life  was 
concerned,  taught  him  no  lesson.  And  there  are  swarms  of 
such  miserable  units — horrible  thousands  of  them,  breeding 
other  horrible  thousands!  We  hear,  and  we  read,  of  Law 
and  Government, — and  the  hopes  of  the  world  spring  up 
elated  at  the  fair  promises  made  of  betterment, — hopes  only 
doomed  to  be  crushed  again  by  the  depressing  discovery  that 
the  very  dispensers  of  Law  and  Government  are  frequently 


252  HOLY     ORDERS 

more  corrupt  than  those  they  would  essay  to  govern,  and  are 
too  often  found  among  the  vilest  sinners  against  moral  and 
physical  uprightness.  Between  Dan  Kiernan  and  the  '  gen- 
tleman '  member  of  Parliament  who  daily  and  nightly  fuddles 
his  brain  with  innumerable  whisky-sodas,  is  there  a  differ- 
ence? Not  much,  if  any!  The  victims  of  the  filthy  drink- 
ing-vice  are  on  the  same  base  level,  whether  they  be  of  low- 
class  or  high  quality.  Both  are  grossly  inferior  to  the 
beasts,  and  both  are  the  shame  and  despair  of  nations. 

Midnight  had  passed,  and  the  road  was  still  deserted 
save  for  that  extended  figure  stretched  flat  upon  it  and 
breathing  stertorously  in  a  drunken  sleep.  The  skies  were 
perceptibly  darker, — many  of  the  stars  were  veiled  in  a  gloom 
of  drifting  cloud  and  a  few  drops  of  rain  fell  slowly.  The 
blackness  of  the  atmosphere  had  grown  deeper  and  denser, — 
the  wind  had  dropped,  and  the  stillness  was  more  profound. 

All  at  once  from  the  far-off  distance  there  crept  the  faint 
echo  of  a  low  burring  noise,  measured  and  monotonous  like 
the  whirr  of  a  monster  spinning-wheel.  It  clove  the  silence 
with  a  persistent  hum,  and  went  on  steadily  increasing  in 
depth  and  volume  of  sound.  Nearer  and  nearer  it  boomed 
and  rumbled,  till  the  reverberation  was  like  the  first  muttered 
hint  of  an  earthquake, — yet  all  up  and  down  the  road,  look- 
ing backward  or  forward,  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen. 
Still  closer  and  closer  came  the  thrumming  beat  as  of  swiftly 
rolling  wheels — with  louder  and  louder  resonance  it  swept 
through  space  like  muffled  thunder, — then — a  sudden  yellow 
flare  lit  up  the  scene,  and  two  great  lights,  giant  eyes  of  fire 
that  sent  long  searching  rays  of  blazing  brilliancy  through 
the  darkness,  gleamed  into  space  and  came  flaming  onward 
at  full  speed.  Awake,  Dan  Kiernan!  Awake,  drunken 
criminal  fool!  If  the  gods  of  the  past  and  future  see  any 
remaining  worth  in  that  besotted,  drugged  and  miserable 
life  of  thine,  let  them  intervene  and  save  it  now  before  it  is 
too  late!  Awake,  awake! 

On,  still  on,  and  the  great  lights  glowed  more  brightly 
and  fiercely,  showing  plainly  the  vehicle  their  radiance  helped 
to  guide — a  huge  closed  traveling  motor-car  of  some  seventy- 
irre  horse-power,  which  tore  along  the  road  like  an  express 
train.  On — on — with  a  deadly  smoothness  and  swiftness  it 
rushed — till — just  at  that  dark  mass  which  blotted  the  gray 


HOLY    ORDERS  253 

level  line  of  the  highway  like  a  neglected  rubbish  heap,  there 
was  a  sudden  sickening  jolt.  The  car  leaped  forward  and 
caught  at  something,  dragging  it  along  for  several  paces, — 
something  that  gave  a  ghastly  groan  and  then  was  silent. 
The  chauffeur  uttered  a  score  of  oaths  in  French  as  his 
machine  swerved  and  oscillated  dangerously — then  by  dex- 
terous handling  and  with  scarce  a  moment's  pause,  he 
righted  it,  and  again  started  his  dashing  pace  onward,  when 

a  woman's  voice  cried  out 

"Stop!    Stop!" 


Madame,  I  beg  of  you- 


"  Stop,  I  say!     I  tuil(  be  obeyed!  " 

With  a  discordant  grinding  noise  the  car  came  to  a  halt, 
its  engines  throbbing  clamorously.  An  old  man  with  pallid 
wrinkled  features  and  a  gray  goatee  beard,  looked  out  o£ 
the  window. 

"What's  the  matter,  Antoine?" 

The  chauffeur,  thus  appealed  to,  dismounted  from  his  seat 
and  came  to  the  door  of  the  car,  touching  his  hat. 

"  But  a  little  nothing,  Monsieur!  Some  one  or  some- 
thing in  the  road — a  dog  or  a  sheep.  The  car  jumped  over, 
— it  is  not  possible  that  anything  is  hurt — we  ought  to  go  on 
at  once  and  quickly,  but  Madame " 

Madame  here  settled  matters  by  opening  the  door  on 
the  side  opposite  to  that  where  the  chauffeur  stood,  and 
stepping  into  the  road.  Madame  was  tall  and  slim,  and 
rich  sables  clothed  her  from  head  to  heel. 

"  You  have  run  over  something,  you  stupid  Antoine !  " 
she  said,  her  eyes  shining  through  the  muffling  web  of  the 
gauzy  veil  she  wore — "  I  felt  it  rise  up  under  me!  What 
is  it?" 

The  chauffeur  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  spread  out  his 
hands  in  deprecation. 

"  Madame,  it  is  just  behind.  See !  "  And  he  pointed  to 
a  shapeless  blur  in  the  road  some  paces  away  from  the  back 
of  the  car — "  Let  me  advise  Madame  that  whatever  it  is,  it  is 
best  to  leave  it !  " 

Madame  gathered  her  sables  round  her  and  proceeded  to 
walk  towards  the  '  it '  in  question.  The  old  man  who  was 
her  companion  in  the  car,  stretched  out  his  head  and  yelled 
at  her 


254  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  Come  back!    Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  see  what  we  have  killed !  "  she  replied  calmly 

"  There  is  blood  on  our  wheels," 

"  Blood !  "  And  his  weak  falsetto  voice  rose  to  a  kind  of 
shriek — "Antoine!  Do  your  hear?  Blood!  She  says  there 
is  blood  on  our  wheels!  Get  it  off  at  once! — I  will  not 
travel  with  it — no — no!  It  must  be  cleaned  off — cleaned 
directly — I  will  not  travel  with  it !  " 

He  sank  back  in  the  car  quite  inarticulate  with  nervous 
excitement,  and  the  chauffeur  hastened  to  pacify  him. 

"  Monsieur !  Monsieur,  let  me  pray  you  to  be  calm !  I 
will  bring  the  light  immediately  and  see  what  is  wrong — 
but  Madame  is  alone — Madame  may  be  frightened  at  the 
thing  in  the  road, — will  you  go  with  her,  or  shall  I?" 

"  I  go  with  her?  I?  "  And  the  wizened  head  peered  out 
of  the  window  again,  its  features  livid  with  rage  and  fear — 
"  Do  you  take  me  for  a  fool  ?  "  Here  he  called  after  the 
tall  sable-coated  woman's  figure  that  went  slowly  moving  by 
itself  along  the  road — "  Jacynth !  " 

She  turned  her  head  and  paused. 

"Jacynth!     Come  back!" 

She  moved  quietly  on  again. 

The  chauffeur  smiled  covertly  under  the  fringe  of  his 
<lark  mustache. 

"Monsieur,  it  is  better  I  should  attend  Madame!  A 
dead  animal  is  not  a  pretty  sight  for  ladies .  " 

"  Go  then !  "  exclaimed  his  master  snappishly — "  Go  and 
tell  her  to  come  back  to  me  at  once !  " 

The  chauffeur  thereupon  took  a  small  lighted  hand-lamp 
from  the  front  of  the  car  where  it  hung,  and  in  a  second  was 
by  his  lady's  side. 

"  Madame !  "  he  said,  in  a  low  tone — "  Monsieur  Nord- 
stein  is  very  angry  that  you  go  to  look  at  this  thing,  whatever 
it  is — pray  return  to  him !  " 

She  threw  back  her  veil,  and  showed  a  pure  oval  face  of 
•dazzling  beauty,  illumined  by  large  brilliant  dark  eyes, — the 
unforgettable  face  of  Jacynth  Miller — but  an  altogether 
lovelier  Jacynth — a  Jacynth  of  culture,  refinement  and  grace, 
with  a  manner  expressive  of  all  the  ease  and  elegance  of  the 
great  world. 


HOLY    ORDERS  25$ 

"  Monsieur  Nordstein  is  angry !  "  she  said,  with  a  slight 
shrug  of  her  shoulders- — "What  do  I  care  for  his  anger?" 

The  chauffeur  looked  at  her  somewhat  dubiously. 

"  You  may  not  care,  Madame — but  there  are  penalties 
and  punishments — and  this  thing  we  have  run  over " 

"  You — not  we!"  interrupted  Jacynth — "  You!  You  are 
the  driver  of  the  car  and  you  were  going  too  fast.  You 
must  have  killed  something — here  it  is," — and  she  suddenly 
halted — "  See!  It  is  not  a  dog  or  a  sheep — it  is  a  man!  " 

At  her  words  and  gesture  he  stepped  forward,  holding  up 
his  lantern — then  bent  over  the  shapeless  bundle  that  lay  in 
front  of  them,  springing  back  from  it  again  in  shuddering 
disgust. 

"Come  away,  Madame — come  away!"  he  said — "It  is 
terrible!  It  is  some  laborer — he  is  dead! — quite  dead,  and 
bleeding — bleeding  horribly!  How  it  has  happened  I  know 
not, — I  am  sorry, — it  was  not  my  fault — he  must  have  been 
drunk  to  lie  there  in  the  road — or  perhaps  he  was  dead 
before — but  come,  Madame — come!— come  back  to  the  car! 
— you  must  not  look " 

She,  however,  advanced   resolutely. 

"  I  will  look!  "  she  said — "  I  have  never  seen  a  dead  man." 

She  drew  close  to  the  body  and  stooped  over  it. 

"  Bring  the  lamp  here !  "  she  commanded. 

The  chauffeur,  deadly  pale  and  with  chattering  teeth, 
obeyed. 

She  gazed  intently  at  what  presented  the  appearance  of  a 
mere  heap  of  dirty  and  blood-stained  clothes,  without  a 
tremor  or  an  exclamation  of  pity.  Putting  out  a  small  foot, 
cased  in  a  dainty  shoe  on  which  the  silver  embroidery  spar- 
kled like  gems,  she  moved  the  corpse  with  it,  turning  the 
head  over  so  that  the  face  could  be  seen.  Then  and  then 
only  she  recoiled  a  little.  For  she  recognized  it.  It  was 
Dan  Kiernan's  face — bruised,  battered,  gashed  and  bleeding, 
— Dan's  and  no  other.  Its  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  pro- 
truded hideously, — in  the  light  flung  upon  them  by  the  wav- 
ering lantern  they  glistened  and  stared  at  her  like  living  eyes 
— stared  at  her  so  straightly  that  she  instinctively  uttered  a 
faint  cry.  Then,  recovering  herself  at  once,  she  gave  them 
stare  for  stare — and  smiled. 


256  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  It  is  Dan !  "  she  murmured  under  her  breath — "  Dan 
Klernan!  Killed!  Crushed  under  the  wheels  of  my  car!  " 

And  with  that  she  laughed — a  silvery  sweet  laugh  of  tri- 
umph. The  chauffeur  started,  thinking  that  the  horror  of 
the  sight  on  which  she  was  gazing  had  made  her  hysterical. 
But  she  was  perfectly  composed,  and  her  attitude  expressed 
the  most  absolute  indifference. 

"  Yes — it  is  some  tramping  laborer," — she  said,  aloud, — 
"  No  doubt  he  was  lying  drunk  in  the  road.  So  it  is  not 
your  fault,  Antoine, — it  is  his  own.  Drink  is  the  curse  of 
all  these  kind  of  men!  There's  no  house  near  here — and  we 
are  some  distance  from  a  town,  so  we  must  leave  him  where 
he  is.  Go  back  to  the  car  and  tell  mv  husband  I  am  coming. 
Stay!  Let  me  have  your  lantern." 

"  But,  Madame," — objected  Antoine — "  You  will  be 
alone  with  this  corpse — your  dress " 

She  smiled. 

"  My  dress  is  all  right.  I'll  take  care  it  has  no  blood  on 
it," — she  said — "  And  I'm  not  alone — the  car  is  close  by." 
Here  she  drew  the  lantern  away  from  his  reluctant  hold — 
"  I  am  coming  immediately.  I  just  want  to  look  at  this 
dead  thing  again." 

Antoine  lifted  his  hands  and  eyes  in  wonderment. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu!  "  he  inwardly  ejaculated — "  Quel 
coeur  de  f  emme !  " 

He  hurried  away  to  relate  the  nature  of  the  accident  to 
his  master,  who  could  be  seen  gesticulating  impatiently  from 
the  car,  and  Jacynth  Miller,  now  Jacynth  Nordstein,  wife 
of  one  of  the  sharpest  Jew  millionaires  that  ever  played  with 
the  money  markets  of  the  world,  stood  like  some  wondrous 
figure  of  Fate,  lamp  in  hand,  looking  down  upon  the  man- 
gkd  remains  of  her  girlhood's  lover  with  an  expression  that 
was  neither  sorrowful  nor  compassionate,  but  simply  self- 
complacent. 

"  Dan !  "  she  breathed  softly — "  Listen,  Dan !  It  is  I — 
Jacynth !  It  is  Jacynth  whose  car  drove  over  you  just  now ! 
Aren't  you  glad  ?  Isn't  it  a  fine  way  out  of  Life  for  you  ? — a 
way  you  would  have  wished?  You've  been  wretched  with- 
out me — you  know  you  have!  Not  a  glimpse  of  me  for 
three  years! — enough  to  break  your  heart,  Dan!  And  I — 
I've  been  afraid  of  you  sometimes!  I've  thought  you  might 


HOLY    ORDERS  257 

turn  up  any  day  with  some  story  of  the  past, — the  past 
which  I  have  half  forgotten  and  want  altogether  to  forget. 
And  now  there  you  are! — out  of  my  way  for  ever!  That's 
just  my  luck, — fortune  always  favors  me!  Out  of  my  way 
for  ever!  I  shall  never  have  to  trouble  about  you  or  think 
of  you  again!  I  wonder  what  you  were  doing  here  so  far 
from  Shadbrook?  Tramping  it?  Perhaps  to  find  me! 
Well!  Your  search  is  ended,  Dan!  You've  found  me! — 
for  the  last  time!  Good-night,  Dan! — good-by!  " 

She  waved  the  lantern  with  quite  a  coquettish  playfulness 
over  the  awful  dead  face  upturned  to  her  own, — and  then, 
with  a  light  step  that  betokened  a  light  heart,  turned  her 
back  upon  the  corpse  and  moved  away.  Returning  to  the 
car  she  found  her  husband  half  out  of  it,  his  foot  on  the  step, 
and  his  keen  small  eyes  glittering  with  excitement. 

"  Ah !  At  last !  "  he  exclaimed — "  I  thought  you  were 
never  coming!  Antoine  says  it  is  a  dead  tramp  you  were 
looking  at.  What  do  you  find  in  that  to  please  you?  And 
to  keep  me  waiting  ?  " 

Swinging  the  lantern  in  one  hand,  she  looked  up  at  him, 
laughing.  Her  expression  and  attitude  were  perfectly  lovely, 
and  Israel  Nordstein,  whose  passion  for  her  beauty  domi- 
nated him  even  more  than  his  passion  for  money,  altered  his 
vexed  frown  to  a  wrinkled  smile. 

"  Anything  for  a  change,  Isra!  "  she  said — "  To  leave  you 
for  a  moment  makes  you  love  me  more  for  an  hour !  " 

Her  eyes  flashed  provocatively,  and  he  quickly  put  out  his 
arms  and  lifted  her  into  the  car  beside  him.  His  pallid  face 
had  reddened  with  pleasure. 

"  You  wild  girl!  "  he  said,  and  kissed  her; — "You  pretty 
tyrant !  You  know  I  could  not  love  you  more !  Come  close 
to  me — sit  so! — I  like  to  feel  you  near!  And  now  let  us 
get  on  as  fast  as  possible.  You've  had  your  way — now  I 

must  have  mine.  Antoine  has  seen  to  the  wheels they're 

all  right — and  I've  told  him  to  drive  at  top  speed." 

"  I'm  afraid  our  car  killed  the  poor  man ! "  she  said, 
nestling  against  him  with  a  little  affected  shudder  and  sigh — 
"  He  was  past  all  help !  " 

"  Well,  he  shouldn't  have  gone  to  bed  on  the  high-road," 
— her  husband  replied  cynically ; — "  He  was  probably  drunk. 
They  say  God  always  protects  drunkards a  curious  taste 


258  HOLY     ORDERS 

on  the  part  of  the  Almighty! — but  this  time  He  appears  to 
have  been  away  on  other  business."  He  laughed  at  what  he 
considered  a  witticism,  and  just  then  the  chauffeur  came  to 
the  door. 

"  Shall  we  start  again,  Monsieur  ?  " 

Nordstein  nodded  good-humoredly. 

"  Start  ?  Of  course !  We  should  never  have  stopped. 

But  Madame  must  always  be  obeyed!  On on,  my  An- 

toine !  Drive  like  the  devil !  " 

And  with  devilish  speed  the  car  flew — straight  ahead  like 
a  missile  from  a  giant  cannon,  with  a  boom  and  a  whirr 
and  a  grind — its  fierce  eyes  of  fire  probing  their  way  through 
the  darkness — and  presently  silence  fell  upon  the  scene. 
Silence — solitude, — and  a  dead  man, — over  which  the  dull 
dawn  broke  in  tears  of  drizzling  rain. 


CHAPTER   XV 

WITHIN  twenty-four  hours  after  poor  pretty  Azalea 
Everton  had  been  laid  on  her  bed,  all  clothed  in 
white,  and  asleep  for  ever,  Shadbrook  the  obscure  became 
famous.  Shadbrook,  hidden  away  from  the  knowledge  of  the 
wider  world  in  a  remote  part  of  the  Cotswolds,  suddenly 
leaped  into  unenviable  notoriety.  The  shadow  of  a  crime 
had  fallen  on  the  dull  little  village,  causing  it  to  blaze  like 
an  ugly  red  advertisement  set  against  the  quiet  hill.  Th& 
whole  neighborhood  swarmed  with  reporters  and  photog- 
raphers, and  in  every  newspaper  pictures  of  the  scene  of  the 
murder,  accompanied  by  sensational  details  of  the  supposed 
manner  in  which  it  had  been  committed,  appealed  to  the 
morbid  taste  of  the  lower-class  public.  The  unhappy  Vicar 
was  put  to  constant  torture  by  intrusive  press-men,  who  made 
their  uninvited  way  into  his  garden  and  came  up  to  his  very 
house  door,  seeking  to  interview  the  servants,  without  any 
thought  for  his  feelings  or  regard  for  his  personal  privacy. 
Shut  in  the  quiet  sanctuary  of  his  study,  with  his  little  so>n 
for  chief  companion,  he  was  bewildered  and  troubled  beyond 
expression  by  the  cruel  and  selfish  attempts  made  by  these 
hack  journalists  to  trade  on  the  terrible  tragedy  which  had 
darkened  his  life.  The  very  day  following  the  crime,  one 
of  the  half-penny  dailies,  notoriously  known  for  its  vulgar 
commercial  spirit  and  bad  taste,  published  portraits  of  him- 
self, his  murdered  wife  and  Dan  Kiernan,  all  set  in  a  group 
together  with  a  paragraph  beside  it  headed  '  Drink  or  Re- 
venge ? '  The  paper  was  sent  to  Everton  through  the  post 
by  some  officious  person  who  evidently  believed  in  the  process 
of  rubbing  salt  into  raw  wounds, — and  when  he  saw  it  his 
soul  sickened  with  a  sense  of  utter  and  helpless  despair. 

"  My  God !  "  he  murmured — "  Is  this  what  our  country's 
once  clean  and  honorable  press  is  coming  to ! " 

Then,  when  the  news  arrived — as  it  soon  did — that  the 
dead  body  of  a  man  had  been  found  on  a  lonely  road  leading 
out  of  Wiltshire  towards  London,  and  that  it  had  been  identi" 
fied  as  the  remains  of  Dan  Kiernan,  crushed  and  mangled 

259 


HOLY    ORDERS 

in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  no  doubt  that  he  had  been  ruri 
over  by  a  motor-car,  the  excitement  became  intensified. 
Offers  of  reward  were  immediately  published  for  the  dis- 
covery of  the  destructive  car  concerned,  whose  owners  had 
been  so  selfish  as  to  run  over  a  man,  even  though  he  were  a 
drunken  murderer,  and  leave  him  lying  in  the  road, — for 
the  police  felt  they  had  been  defrauded  of  their  intended! 
capture,  and  the  law  sympathized  with  the  police  as  having 
been  equally  cheated  of  fees  in  a  criminal  trial.  But  no  one 
had  seen  any  car  dashing  at  breakneck  speed  through  Wilt- 
shire or  any  other  shire, — no  one  appeared  to  have  the  slight- 
est belief  that  any  car  could  or  would  so  dash  through  re- 
spectable English  counties  after  midnight  wholly  unobserved, 
— whereby  it  will  be  seen  and  understood  that  Israel  Nord- 
stein  knew  how  to  use  his  money.  Shadbrook  was  shaken 
to  its  phlegmatic  core  by  hearing  of  Dan  Kiernan's  death 
coming  so  suddenly  upon  that  of  his  victim.  Up  at  Min- 
chin's  Brewery  it  was  the  one  subject  of  talk  among  the 
men. 

"  That's  a  nice  way  to  finish  up !  "  said  one  of  them — 
"  Murderin'  a  poor  lady  in  the  afternoon,  an'  gettin'  man- 
gled to  bits  one's  self  the  same  night !  " 

His  mates  nodded  a  solemn  affirmative. 

"  It  was  drink  with  Dan," — said  another — "  Always  the 
idrink.  He'd  a'  bin  all  right  from  the  beginnin'  when  he  fust 
come  to  ShadbrooL  if  'e'd  a'  kep'  sober.  It  was  the  drink  as 
set  'im  wild  on  that  devil's  wench,  Jacynth  Miller." 

A  young  fellow,  sitting  cross-legged  on  one  of  Minchin's 
empty  beer-casks,  looked  at  them  meaningly. 

"  It's  the  drink  with  most  of  us,  boys," — he  said — "  It 
makes  fools  and  villains  of  us.  Why  don't  we  give  it  up  ?  " 

They  stared  at  him  sheepishly,  and  a  slow  smile  went 
the  round  of  their  faces.  He  was  a  well-educated  lad  and 
had  taken  a  certain  '  lead '  among  them  by  having  a  few  of 
them  every  evening  at  his  own  lodging,  talking  to  them  and 
entertaining  them  in  such  a  manner  as  to  successfully  keep 
them  away  from  the  public-house. 

"  Why  don't  we  give  it  up  ?  "  he  repeated — "  Above  all, 
why  don't  we  give  Minchin  a  lesson  £" 

They  exchanged  dubious  glances. 

"There's  a  timber  yard  opening  up  some  fifteen  miles 


HOLY    ORDERS  261 

from  here," — went  on  the  young  man,  doggedly — "  I  saw 
the  boss  yesterday.  He  wants  men.  They  that  can  pack 
casks  can  pack  timber,  and  the  fellow  that  can  drive  a 
brewer's  dray  can  drive  a  wagonload  of  wood  as  easily.  So 
I'm  off.  I'm  going  to  give  Minchin  notice.  I  wish  some  of 
you  would  do  the  same !  " 

They  listened  in  profound  astonishment,  offering  no  com- 
ment. 

"  Look  here,  boys," — and  the  speaker  grew  flushed  and 
eager — "  I'm  not  a  canting  teetotaler — like  Minchin.  I'm 
not  a  religious  humbug — like  Minchin.  I  like  to  be  on  the 
square.  This  murder  of  the  parson's  poor  wife  at  Shadbrook 
has  made  me  sick  of  Minchin,  his  brewery,  his  beer  and 
everything  connected  with  him!  He's  as  much  to  blame  as 
Dan  Kiernan — indeed  I'm  not  sure  he  isn't  the  worst  crim- 
inal of  the  two !  " 

"  Steady,  lad,  steady ! "  expostulated  a  big,  burly  dray- 
man— "  You're  a-goin'  it  a  bit  too  strong!  It's  a  bad  busi- 
ness— an  awsome  bad  business — but  you  'adn't  ought  to 
blame  the  wrong  man." 

"  I  blame  the  right  man ! "  retorted  the  voung  fellow, 
hotly.  "  I  tell  you  I've  heard  Kiernan  threaten  Mrs.  Ever- 
ton — ay,  and  Parson  Everton  too, — over  and  over  again, 
and  Minchin  has  heard  him,  and  laughed.  The  Roman 
Catholic  priest  here  warned  Minchin  that  Kiernan  was  al- 
ways drunk  and  always  dangerous — and  Minchin  laughed 
again.  It's  Minchin's  stuff  that  made  Kiernan  the  brute  he 
was.  For  it  isn't  sound  beer — it's  rank  poison!  Boys,  you 
know  it  is !  " 

"  There's  a  tidy  lot  o'  chemicals  in  it,  sartin  sure ! " — 
said  one  of  the  listeners — "  An'  there's  very  little  o'  malt  an' 
'ops.  We  'ad  an  inspector  or  some  such  chap  up  'ere  four 
or  five  years  ago  what  took  samples  to  prove  the  purity  o' 
Minchin's  ale,  an'  I'm  blest  if  there  worn't  a  special  lot 
brewed  for  'im  ready  to  sample!  That's  the  way  things  is 
done — sharp  an'  on  the  sly — an'  nobody  ain't  none  the 
wiser !  " 

There  was  a  silence.  Then  a  man  looked  questioningly 
at  the  young  fellow  who  had  started  the  conversation. 

"You're  really  goin'  to  try  the  timber  yard,  are  ye?  " 

"Yes,  lam." 


262  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  Well,  maybe  some  of  us'll  go  with  ye.  We'll  think 
about  it." 

They  dispersed  then,  but  at  six  o'clock  that  evening 
twenty-five  brewery  hands  had  given  notice,  and  Mr.  Min- 
chin's  astonishment  was  only  equaled  by  his  rage. 

"  What  new  game  is  this  ?  "  he  demanded  of  his  manager 
who  brought  him  the  unwelcome  news ; — "  What  the  devil 
do  these  fellows  mean  by  it  ?  " 

"  I  really  couldn't  say," — the  manager  replied,  uncomfort- 
ably, "  I  can  only  put  it  down  to  the  general  feeling  of 
sympathy  for  the  clergyman  at  Shadbrook.  You  see  he's 
always  been  set  against  the  drink — and  now  that  his  wife  has 

been  murdered  by  one  of. our  hands well! 1  think  it's 

quite  likely  to  make  the  brewery  unpopular." 

Minchin  stretched  his  wide  mouth  in  an  unpleasant  grin. 

"  Nothing  will  make  drink  unpopular,"  he  said — "  You 
may  bet  your  life  on  that !  " 

In  this  the  manager  did  not  presume  to  contradict  him, 
and  taking  orders  for  a  supply  of  fresh  hands  to  replace 
those  who  had  given  notice — orders  which,  though  he  did 
not  say  so,  he  knew  would  be  very  difficult  to  fulfill — he 
withdrew. 

At  Shadbrook  Vicarage  itself  the  death  of  Dan  Kiernan 
came  as  an  unexpected  relief.  The  Vicar  had  contemplated 
with  indescribable  horror  the  ordeal  that  would  be  inflicted 
upon  him  if  the  murderer  of  his  wife  were  brought  to  trial. 
— the  vulgar  publicity  that  would  be  thrown  on  his  erstwhile 
sacred  domestic  life, — the  examination  of  various  witnesses 
who  might  be  brought  forward  to  relate  the  story  of  Jennie 
Kiernan's  death  and  the  innocent  part  Azalea  had  taken  in 
that  episode, — then  would  come  the  scandal  concerning 
Jacynth  Miller — and  who  knew — who  could  tell  where 
Jacynth  might  be  now,  or  what  position  she  occupied  ?  The 
chain  of  circumstance  seemed  interminable, — and  yet  from 
what  a  small  link  it  had  sprung! 

Sunk  in  an  apathy  of  misery,  Everton  was  thankful  at 
heart  that  this  fresh  agony  was  spared  him — the  agony  of 
being  perhaps  compelled  to  testify  to  the  truth  of  the  manner 
in  which  Jacynth  had  brought  disgrace  into  his  parish,  while 
he,  like  a  blind  fool  believing  only  in  good,  had  never  been 
aware  of  it,  and  so  through  his  stupidity  had  been  the  remote 


HOLY    ORDERS  263 

cause  of  the  vengeance  wreaked  by  the  drunken  Dan  Kier- 
nan  on  his  innocent  wife.  How  he  blamed  himself  now! — 
how  bitterly  he  blamed  himself!  He  poured  out  all  his  soul 
to  Sebastien  Douay,  who,  listening  to  the  full  details  of  the 
story  for  the  first  time,  was  profoundly  moved. 

"  You  did  it  all  for  the  best,  my  poor  friend ! "  he  said 
sorrowfully — "  You  tried  to  save  a  drunkard  from  fatally 
injuring  his  wife, — and  if,  for  this  act  of  kindness  you  are 
so  cruelly  afflicted,  then  surely  the  good  God  is  not  merciful! 
And  for  the  dear  little  angel  who  is  gone,  she  did  also  for 
the  best, — though  it  would  have  been  better  that  she  had 
never  spoken  to  this  Mrs.  Kiernan " 

"  I  sent  her," — and  Richard  clasped  and  unclasped  his 
hands  in  a  nervous  access  of  desperation — "  I  used  to  think — 
God  forgive  me! — that  she  did  not  show  sufficient  interest 
in  the  poor  for  a  Vicar's  wife — and  I  begged  her  to  go  and 
visit  Jennie  Kiernan  while  the  woman  was  lying  ill  with 
the  injuries  her  husband  had  inflicted  upon  her.  And  she 
went — reluctantly,  poor  darling! — but  she  obeyed  me — so 
you  see  it  was  all  my  fault — all  my  foolish,  blundering 
fault!" 

Douay  earnestly  endeavored  to  console  him. 

"  There  was  no  fault," — he  said — "  And  I  see  not  why 
you  should  accuse  yourself.  It  was  one  of  those  trifles  from 
which  sometimes  springs  a  tragedy,  and  only  God  knows 
why!  Richard," — and  he  paused  in  a  perplexed  sadness, 
then  resumed — "  You  will  not  see  it  yet, — and  you  will 
think  me  brutal  perhaps  for  even  suggesting  it, — but  there 
is  some  reason  for  all  this  trouble  that  has  fallen  upon  you, — 
some  Divine  intention  behind  it " 

Everton  sighed  in  utter  weariness. 

"  Ah,  spare  me  that !  "  he  entreated — "  It  is  cruel !  I  am 
borne  down  to  the  dust  by  a  cross  too  heavy  for  me  to 
bear " 

"  But  you  will  not  be  crushed  under  it," — and  Douay's 
eyes  glowed  with  enthusiasm — "  no,  you  will  not  be  crushed ! 
You  are  too  strong.  You  will  be  like  St.  Christopher — you 
will  carry  the  Christ  of  many  sorrows  through  the  stormy 
stream,  and  find  yourself  blessed  by  His  love  when  the 
journey  is  at  an  end !  " 

The  desolate  man  made  no  reply.     He  covered  his  eyes 


264  HOLY     ORDERS 

with  his  hand,  and  Douay  saw  the  slow  tears  trickling 
through  his  fingers. 

The  chief  comfort  and  help  of  all  in  the  house  during 
this  time  of  sorrow  was  the  child  Laurence.  He  knew  now 
that  his  mother  "was  dead, — and  he  accepted  the  fact  with  a 
strange  quietude,  unbroken  by  tears.  A  look  was  on  his  face 
as  of  one  who  saw  more  than  mortals  could  show  him,  and 
his  nurse,  puzzled  by  his  tranquil  demeanor,  asked  him  once 
very  gently  whether  he  understood  that  his  mother  was  gone 
away  for  ever.  He  smiled  a  little  at  this, — a  wondering 
angel  smile. 

"  No," — he  said — "  I  don't  understand  that  at  all.  She 
is  only  just  a  little  way  off, — in  Heaven.  She  will  always 
come  to  me  when  I  call  her." 

Nurse  Tomkins  stroked  his  bright  hair. 

"  Are  you  sure,  dear  ?  "  she  asked  hesitatingly. 

"Yes.     Aren't  you?" 

She  was  at  a  loss  how  to  reply.  She  had  been  a  regular 
church-goer  all  her  life,  and  she  believed  the  New  Testament 
or  said  she  believed  it, — how  then  was  it  that  she  had  not  the 
same  trusting  faith  as  a  little  child?  How  is  it,  we  may 
surely  ask,  that  many  professing  Christians  do  not  believe 
in  what  Christ  teaches,  and  treat  as  crazed  persons  those  who 
do  ?  It  is  one  thing  to  be  a  church-goer, — it  is  quite  another 
to  be  a  real  Christian, — that  is  to  say,  a  follower  of  and 
believer  in  the  Divine  Master  to  the  very  letter  of  all  He 
taught  and  prophesied,  for  of  such  as  this  last  there  are  too 
few  to  form  even  a  small  society. 

"  You  see  Heaven's  quite  close," — proceeded  Laurence, 
with  grave  earnestness — "  And  the  angels  don't  have  to 
travel  ever  so  far  as  we  do.  They  just  wish  to  be  with  us, 
or  we  wish  them  to  come,  and  they  are  here  in  a  minute.  I 
told  Dad  so.  Dad  cried,  but  I  told  him  I  had  seen  Mummy 
since  she  went  away,  and  when  I  said  just  how  she  looked, 
he  kissed  me  and  believed  me.  And  he  doesn't  cry  so  much 
now." 

His  nurse  listened  in  silent  awe.  The  little  lad  looked 
like  a  heavenly  creature  himself  with  his  fair  face  and  big 
loving  eyes,  and  she  was  glad  that  he  had  not  been  allowed 
to  enter  the  death-chamber  where  his  mother  lay  in  her 
coffin  under  a  pall  of  pure  white  flowers. 


HOLY    ORDERS  265 

41  Let  him  remember  her  as  she  lived," — Everton  had  said 
— "  She  was  his  companion  and  playmate,  as  well  as  his 
•mother, — let  him  think  of  her  as  always  bright  and  beautiful. 
It  is  better  so." 

And  so  it  was.  Laurence  himself  showed  no  desire  or 
curiosity  to  penetrate  into  rooms  where  the  doors  were  closed, 
nor  did  he  appear  to  be  in  any  way  concerned  with  the  dis- 
mal hush  that  prevailed  in  the  house,  the  whispering  voices, 
or  the  muffled  footsteps.  He  was  always  with  his  father, 
— sometimes  sitting  quietly  on  his  knee  and  nestling  against 
him, — sometimes  in  a  corner  of  the  study  window  with  a 
picture  book, — but  never  showing  any  marked  consciousness 
of  the  fact  that  his  mother  was  no  longer  with  him.  His 
small  personality  and  influence  were  so  exquisite  and  re- 
markable that  Richard  almost  felt  himself  guided  and  con- 
trolled by  this  little  life  for  which  he  was  responsible, — and 
in  the  child's  presence  his  grief  was  calmed,  his  nerves 
soothed,  and  his  whole  fainting  spirit  aroused  and  braced  to 
a  courage  beyond  his  own  imagined  ability.  For  he  saw 
that  Laurence  did  not  consider  his  mother  as  dead,  but  liv- 
ing,— living,  and  only  a  little  way  removed  from  him.  And 
was  not  this  the  true  spirit  of  the  Christian  creed  ?  Had  he, 
therefore,  an  ordained  minister  of  the  Gospel  of  Consolation, 
less  faith  than  the  instinctive  confidence  shown  by  his  little 
son?  Weary  of  himself  and  ashamed,  he  struggled  and 
fought  with  his  own  bitter  sorrow,  which,  like  another  Giant 
Despair,  fell  upon  him  full-armed  with  cap  of  steel  and 
breast-plate  of  fire, — and  out  of  each  fierce  contest  he  came 
forth  a  stronger,  wiser,  and  purer  man. 

Yet  when,  at  the  close  of  that  fatal  week,  the  day  arrived 
for  the  final  laying  to  rest  of  all  that  was  mortal  of  his  win- 
some wife  in  Shadbrook  churchyard,  his  strength  well-nigh 
gave  way  again.  The  rector  of  a  parish  some  thirty  miles 
distant,  a  friend  and  old  college  chum  of  Everton's,  came 
to  perform  the  sad  ceremony;  and  at  first  it  was  doubtful 
whether  Everton  himself  would  be  able  to  bear  the  strain 
of  attending  the  funeral  in  his  desolate  capacity  of  chief 
mourner.  Ghastly  pale  and  trembling,  he  sat  in  his  darkened 
study  till  the  last  possible  moment,  listening  to  every  sound, 
— to  the  measured  tramp  of  the  feet  that  ascended  to  the 
room  where  Azalea's  body  lay  in  its  closed  coffin,  covered 


266  HOLY     ORDERS 

with  wreaths  and  garlands  of  early  spring  blossoms,  and  then 
came  softly  treading  down  again  under  the  weight  of  their 
precious  burden, — it  was  terrible — terrible! — he  said  to  him- 
self over  and  over  again; — the  black  paraphernalia  of  death 
ought  not  to  be  associated  with  so  fair  and  bright  a  creature 
as  Azalea, — Azalea,  who  had  lain  in  his  arms  warm  and 
sweet  as  a  June  rose,  with  her  golden  hair  flowing  about 
her, — Azalea,  whose  little  feet  had  tripped  through  the  house 
and  garden  so  lightly  that  she  seemed  to  float  rather  than 
walk  on  the  ground ; — how  was  it  that  she — she  should  now 
be  covered  in  from  the  light  and  buried  down  in  the  cold 
moist  earth?  And  he  almost  shrieked  as  the  door  of  his 
room  opened,  and  his  old  college  friend  entered,  arrayed  in 
white  surplice  and  ready  for  the  mournful  rites  he  was  called 
upon  to  perform. 

"  My  dear  Everton,"  he  said  gently,  "  You  look  very 
ill.  Do  you  think  you  can  come  with  us?" 

Everton  rose  totteringly. 

"  I  must !  "  he  answered — "  I  must  go  with  her  to  the 
end!" 

His  friend  looked  at  him  with  deep  compassion.  As 
Edward  Darell,  formerly  one  of  the  most  brilliant  of  Cam- 
bridge young  men,  he  had  made  Everton,  who  was  about  his 
own  age,  a  kind  of  ideal, — for  though  Everton  was  not  such 
a  showy  scholar,  he  was  far  more  profound — and  it  smote 
him  to  the  heart  to  see  him  so  utterly  broken  down.  After 
a  minute  he  spoke  again. 

"  It  will  be  a  great  trial  for  you," — he  said — "  There  is 
an  enormous  crowd." 

Everton  heard,  but  scarcely  comprehended. 

"  The  Roman  Catholic  priest  who  is  here,"  went  on  Dar- 
ell, "  tells  me  he  fears  it  may  be  too  much  for  your  strength* 
He  seems  very  intimate  with  you." 

There  was  a  tinge  of  reproach  in  his  accents.  Everton 
sighed  heavily. 

"Yes," — he  answered — "To  a  man  left  in  a  desert  the 
first  passer-by  becomes  an  intimate." 

Darell  was  silent  for  a  few  seconds.     Then  he  went  on. 

"  You  know  my  opinion  on  matters  of  faith,"  he  said 
slowly,  "  I  am  a  little  afraid  for  you " 


HOLY    ORDERS  267 

Everton  turned  upon  him  a  face  so  wan  and  wild  that 
Darell  recoiled. 

"  You  do  well  to  be  afraid  for  me !  "  he  said — "  I  am 
afraid  for  myself!  Not  afraid  of  changing  my  faith, — but 
afraid  of  losing  faith  altogether!  "  He  paused — then  added 
more  quietly,  "  Shall  I  come  with  you  now?  " 

"  If  you  feel  able  to  do  so," — answered  Darell — "  Every- 
thing is  ready." 

In  another  moment  Everton  stood  bareheaded  in  the  open 
air,  blindly 'conscious  of  a  great  crowd  of  people,  men  and 
women,  youths  and  girls,  the  men  all  bareheaded  like  him- 
self, and  all  swarming  round  one  simple  little  white  burden 
of  flowers  which  was  the  fragrant  silent  center  of  the  throng. 
The  sunshine  was  warm  and  brilliant, — the  scent  of  lilac 
swept  towards  him  on  every  breath  of  air, — and  all  visible 
things  of  nature  expressed  the  delicate  beauty  of  the  spring. 
Hazily  he  wondered  why  this  mass  of  people  had  gathered 
round  his  house, — why  such  a  murmur  of  sorrow  and  pity 
surged  through  them  as  he  appeared, — and  it  was  as  a  man 
walking  in  a  dream  that  he  yielded  to  some  one's  kindly 
guidance  and  found  himself  walking  immediately  behind  that 
small  white  burden  of  flowers,  carried  by  four  bearers  on 
a  hand-bier  so  gently  and  slowly  along.  But  he  did  not 
realize  that  a  coffin  lay  underneath  the  flowers,  or  that  his 
wife's  body  was  in  the  coffin.  Out  in  the  sunlight  and  pass- 
ing through  his  own  garden  Azalea  seemed  still  living  and 
quite  near, — she  was  on  the  lawn — she  was  among  the  roses 
— he  would  see  her  directly — so  his  thoughts  rambled  on  dis- 
connectedly ;  he  was  just  aware  that  the  patron  of  his  living, 
Squire  Hazlitt,  was  present — that  he  spoke  to  him  and 
pressed  his  hand,  and  that  there  were  tears  in  the  bluff  gentle- 
man's eyes, — then  something  leaped  in  his  soul  like  a  tongue 
of  fire,  and  his  eyes  lightened  with  a  passion  sudden  and 
terrible. 

"  For  God's  sake! "  he  said  in  a  low  tone  to  Dr.  Brand, 
who  happened  to  be  near  him — "  Get  that  man  out  of  my 
sight,  or  I  cannot  answer  for  myself !  " 

Brand  looked  where  he  was  looking,  and  saw  the  fox-like 
face  of  the  brewer,  Minchin,  gleaming  like  a  pale  ugly  mask 
amid  the  surging  blackness  of  the  assembled  people,  and 


B68  HOLY    ORDERS 

while  he  was  yet  considering  how  it  would  be  possible  to 
eject  so  unwelcome  an  intruder,  the  face  suddenly  disap- 
peared. More  than  one  person  had  heard  the  Vicar's  ago- 
nized entreaty,  and  more  than  one  person  had  understood  it,, 
and  how  it  happened  nobody  quite  knew,  but  certain  it  was 
that  by  dint  of  firm  yet  quiet  pushing,  Minchin  found  him- 
self dislodged  from  his  position  and  pressed  over  to  the  ex- 
treme edge  of  the  crowd.  There  he  waited  in  scornful  im- 
patience for  a  few  minutes,  trying  to  get  another  chance  of 
admission  to  the  churchyard, — but  from  the  words  and 
glances  with  which  he  was  favored  he  saw,  to  his  surprise 
and  chagrin,  that  the  people  were  in  an  ugly  humor,  and  dis- 
posed to  resent  his  presence  at  the  funeral  as  superfluous. 
He,  therefore,  judged  it  wisest  and  safest  to  depart  from  the 
scene, — and  as  his  thin  angular  figure  detached  itself  and 
Stood  out  clearly  separate  from  the  throng,  a  thousand  angry 
eyes  were  turned  upon  him,  and  he  heard  something  like  a 
threatening  hiss  which  boded  no  goodwill.  He  laughed  to- 
himself  a  trifle  uncomfortably. 

"  One  would  think  /  had  murdered  the  parson's  wife !  " 
he  inwardly  ejaculated — "  Or  that  7  was  a  drunkard !  I've 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Kiernan  was  in  my  employ  cer- 
tainly— but  I'm  not  answerable  for  the  conduct  of  my 
men." 

So  he  argued — after  the  same  specious  manner  in  which 
most  employers  of  labor  argue,  namely  that  they  are  '  not 
responsible '  for  either  the  degradation  or  the  sufferings  o£ 
those  they  employ.  Which  is  one  of  those  villainous  per- 
versions of  the  truth  for  which  men  are  so  deservedly  pun- 
ished in  this  world  as  in  the  world  to  come. 

In  deep  silence  the  service  for  the  dead  began, — and 
Richard  Everton,  servant  of  Christ,  stood  rigid  and  tearless 
by  the  open  grave  which  was  soon  to  contain  all  that  he  had 
most  cherished  in  the  world.  Not  only  sorrow  but  despair 
was  in  his  soul,  for  he  knew  that  his  love  for  God  was  less 
than  his  love  for  her  whom  God  had  claimed.  "  He  that 
taketh  not  his  cross  and  followeth  after  Me  is  not  worthy 
of  Me."  So  said  his  Divine  Master, — and  in  shame  and 
bitterness  he  knew  he  was  '  not  worthy.'  All  he  could  think 
gf  was  that  Azalea — lovely,  loving,  sweet  Azalea,  had  been 


HOLY    ORDERS  269 

done  to  death  by  a  drunkard's  malice!  Done  to  death  by  a 
drunkard's  malice !  His  lips  inaudibly  murmured  the  words ; 
— his  reason  asked — Was  it  God's  work?  Or  was  it  not 
rather  the  result  of  man's  vice,  which  all  the  forces  of  nature 
and  powers  of  heaven  are  ever  seeking  to  punish  and  ex-< 
terminate?  Tranced  in  miserable  thoughts  he  saw  nothing 
and  felt  nothing, — intense  mental  agony  had,  like  a  frost, 
numbed  every  nerve.  He  was  unconscious  of  the  strong 
warm  wave  of  sympathy  that  swept  through  the  hearts  of  his 
parishioners  as  they  saw  him,  and  moved  them  to  a  passion 
of  love  and  respect  such  as  they  had  never  known  for  him 
before.  They  were  a  mere  handful  in  the  vast  crowd  that 
day — a  crowd  composed  of  people  from  all  parts  of  the 
country  as  well  as  from  London,  Shadbrook  having  now  be- 
come as  notorious  as  it  was  once  secluded.  The  villagers 
were  overwhelmed  by  the  numbers  of  tourists  who  arrived 
from  every  quarter,  attracted  by  the  horrid  scent  of  murder 
like  bloodhounds  following  up  a  trail.  The  natives  of  the 
place  were  few  indeed  compared  to  those  hordes  of  sensation- 
seekers,  and  they  felt  bewildered  and  astray  in  the  throng 
of  strangers  that  occupied  every  inch  of  spare  standing-room 
in  their  tiny  parish  churchyard.  On  the  outskirts  of  the 
crowd  several  press  reporters  had  gathered,  one  of  them  being 
supplied  with  an  extra  large  camera.  This  individual,  an 
ambitious  youth  who  had  grown  more  pimples  than  hairs  on 
his  chin,  displayed  a  feverish  anxiety  to  obtain  a  photograph 
of  the  unhappy  Vicar  of  Shadbrook  as  he  stood,  a  figure  of 
utter  wretchedness,  by  his  wife's  graveside.  In  his  mind's 
eye  this  Fleet  Street  fledgling  saw  huge  Americanized  head- 
ings for  his  journal,  such  as — '  Clergyman  in  Throes  of 
Agony/ — or  '  Moving  Scene  at  Grave  of  Murdered  Wife,' 
— and  considerations  of  courtesy,  feeling,  pity  and  forbear- 
ance were  less  known  to  him  than  to  the  uncivilized  savage. 
The  journal  for  which  he  was  employed  was  one  of  those 
modern  vulgarities  which  have  recently  brought  the  country's 
press  into  contempt,  its  chief  stock-in-trade  being  smudgy 
pictures  of  persons  and  events, — the  persons  being  unrecog- 
nizable and  most  of  the  events  fictional,  the  whole  produc- 
tion being  of  such  a  character  as  to  shame  even  the  mo& 
barbarous  conceptions  of  art.  While  he  was  making  several 


270  HOLY     ORDERS 

unsuccessful  attempts  to  set  his  camera  in  position,  Squire 
Hazlitt  perceived  him,  and  indignant  at  the  open  callous- 
ness of  the  man,  signed  to  the  sexton,  Jacob  Stowey,  to  go- 
and  remove  him.  Stowey  understood  the  implied  order,  but 
he  had  already  experienced  something  of  the  insufferable 
insolence  and  intrusiveness  of  these  '  noospaper  touts '  as  he 
called  them,  and  he  determined  to  get  rid  of  this  one  by  a 
method  of  his  own,  which  he  had  thought  of  once  or  twice 
but  had  not  as  yet  put  into  practice.  Approaching  the  ob- 
jectionable press  man,  he  pulled  his  forelock. 

"  Want  a  good  shot  at  the  Vicar  in  'is  day  o'  dole  an* 
desolation,  sir?"  he  said,  obsequiously — "I  can  find  ye  a 
better  place  for  that  there  machine  o'  yours  if  ye  like." 

The  press  man  was  delighted. 

"Thanks  very  much!"  he  answered — "I'll  give  you 
half-a-crown  for  your  trouble." 

Stowey  kept  a  face  of  imperturbable  gravity. 

"  Just  follow  me," — he  said — "  An'  ye'll  be  able  to  see 
Parson  Everton's  mis'able  looks  an'  all  the  funeral  business 
straight  an'  clear." 

He  led  the  way,  and  the  confiding  reporter  followed  him 
through  a  tangle  of  shrubbery  and  down  a  short  avenue 
bordered  by  clipped  firs.  The  extra-size-plate  camera  was 
heavy,  and  Stowey  volunteered  to  carry  it  for  him,  an  offer 
which  was  readily  accepted.  At  a  sharp  bend  in  the  path, 
which  appeared  to  lead  up  against  a  dead  wall,  Stowey 
paused,  and  looked  at  his  companion  over  his  shoulder. 

"See  there?"  he  said,  pointing  sideways — "Top  o'  that 
bank?  That's  a  fine  open  view!  " 

The  press  man  hastily  scrambled  up  to  the  spot  indicated 
and  pushed  aside  a  few  intervening  boughs.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  small  turnip  field  and  a  glimpse  of 
the  back  walls  of  Shadbrook  Church.  He  turned  round 
indignantly,  just  in  time  to  hear  a  dull  heavy  splash,  and  to 
see  Stowey  standing  without  the  camera,  silently  grinning. 

"  You  fool !  "  he  exclaimed — "  What  have  you  done  with 
my  camera  ?  " 

"  Fool  yourself!  "  retorted  Stowey,  calmly — "  I  ain't  none 
quite  so  much  as  I  looks!  This  'ere's  the  old  well,  a  bit 
stagnant  an'  smelly,  an'  yer  camera's  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
Arter  funeral's  over,  I'll  fetch  it  up  for  five  pound ! " 


HOLY    ORDERS  271 

The  press  man  swore  till  his  oaths  pattered  on  the  air 
like  rain. 

"You  brute,  do  you  know  what  you  have  done!"  he 
shouted,  "  You've  destroyed  a  thing  worth  twenty-five 
guineas!  I'll  summons  you " 

"  All  right !  Summons  away !  "  said  Stowey — "  I  ain't 
got  twenty-five  guineas  in  the  world,  nor  the  worth  of  it! 
Talk  o'  summonses! — if  I  was  the  law  an'  the  commons 
I'd  summons  such  as  you  for  comin'  and  tryin'  to  take 
noospaper  pictures  of  a  poor  man  who's  seein'  'is  best  o'  life 
laid  in  the  yerth,  as  if  that  was  fit  for  makin'  world's  game 
of!  Ay,  ye  can  go  to  Squire  if  ye  like!  Squire's  a  mag- 
istrate, an'  ye  can  'ave  it  out  with  'iml  But  I've  'ad  it  out 
with  you  first!  An'  I'm  glad  of  it! — dormed  glad  of  it! 
You  an'  yer  lot's  a  reg'lar  noosance  to  decent  livin'  folk,  an' 
I  wish  I  could  a'  put  yerself  down  the  well  along  with 
yer  machine !  I'd  a'  done  it  cheerful  an'  willin' !  " 

But  the  irate  reporter  stayed  to  hear  no  more.  He  rushed 
away  to  relate  to  his  professional  comrades  the  injurious 
treatment  he  had  sustained,  and  to  '  work  up  '  something  in 
the  papers  that  should  bring  his  name  into  prominence  as  a 
victim  of  boorish  interference  while  engaged  in  doing  what 
he  called  his  '  duty.' 

Meantime,  all  the  last  rites  for  the  murdered  Azalea,  were 
reverently  performed; — and  only  when  the  coffin  was  about 
to  be  lowered  into  the  ground  did  the  bereaved  husband 
show  signs  of  breaking  down.  Then,  with  hands  wildly 
outstretched  and  oblivious  of  all  the  people  crowding  about 
him,  he  cried  aloud — "  My  wife!  My  wife!  "  in  tones  of 
such  poignant  anguish  that  tears  rushed  to  the  eyes  of  the 
strongest  men,  and  women  broke  out  sobbing.  Squire 
Hazlitt  gently  drew  his  arm  within  his  own  to  hold  and 
support  him,  for  he  felt  the  whole  body  of  the  man  tremble 
as  in  a  strong  ague  fit.  Silently  and  with  the  tenderest  care, 
as  though  a  child  were  being  put  to  rest,  the  little  burden  of 
white  blossoms  slipped  down,  down  into  soft  mother  earth, 
and  with  poetic  fervor  and  earnestness  the  words  were 
pronounced:  "  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying  unto  me: 
Write,  From  henceforth  blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in 
the  Lord ;  Even  so,  saith  the  Spirit,  for  they  rest  from  their 
labors."  Then,  with  curious  cold  suddenness  Everton 


272  HOLY    ORDERS 

caught  himself  questioning  the  phrase — '  die  in  the  Lord/ 
Had  Azalea, — thoughtless,  light-hearted  Azalea, — died  '  in 
the  Lord  '  ?  Had  she  ever  really  considered  '  the  Lord '  at 
all,  except  as  a  necessary  and  conventional  part  of  the 
day's  instruction  and  business?  And  how  could  she  have 
had  time  to  '  die  in  the  Lord,' — swiftly  and  brutally  mur- 
dered as  she  had  been  by  a  drunkard!  A  sickening  qualm 
of  unrest  and  despair  came  over  his  soul; — and  when  the 
funeral  was  over  and  the  crowd  slowly  dispersed,  he  found 
himself  wondering  vaguely  where  he  was,  and  why  people 
came  up  to  him,  pressed  his  hand,  and  went  away  again, 
without  venturing  to  say  a  word.  It  was  all  so  silent — so 
mysterious, — so  black  and  terrible — this  '  dying  in  the 
Lord'! 

Almost  before  he  could  realize  it  he  had  been  led  away 
through  the  retreating  throng  back  to  his  own  home,  and 
there  he  stood  in  his  own  drawing-room  trying  to  under- 
stand that  Squire  Hazlitt  was  talking  to  him  in  a  very 
earnest  and  friendly  manner,  but  he  could  not  grasp  the 
purport  of  what  he  was  saying.  Some  one  offered  him  a 
glass  of  wine, — he  pushed  it  away  with  a  shudder.  By 
degrees  he  became  vaguely  aware  that  not  only  Squire  Haz- 
litt, but  several  other  gentlemen  of  the  neighboring  counties 
were  present,  and  that  they  were  all  expressing  their  deep 
sympathy  for  him  in  his  sorrow.  Some  of  them  were  total 
strangers  to  him — others  he  knew  very  slightly, — but,  owing 
to  the  extreme  smallness  and  isolation  of  his  parish,  he  had 
never  been  on  visiting  terms  with  any  of  them,  therefore 
their  kindness  now  seemed  to  him  quite  extraordinary.  As 
the  dark  mist  that  clouded  his  mind  slowly  cleared  he  saw 
Douay  standing  close  beside  him,  with  Dr.  Brand  and  his 
college  friend  Darell, — and  presently  the  sense  of  Squire 
Hazlitt's  words  began  to  rivet  his  attention.  And  as  he 
listened  and  gradually  comprehended,  he  was  roused  to  sud- 
den energy  by  the  thrill  of  a  great  fear — fear  that  he  was 
going  to  be  taken  away  from  Shadbrook.  He  who  had 
sometimes  rebelled  at  the  monotonous  weariness  of  the  little 
place, — he  who  had  wondered  whether  he  was  doomed  to 
pass  all  his  life  in  Shadbrook,  now  trembled  with  terror 
at  the  bare  idea  of  leaving  it. 

"  Let  me  persuade  you," — he  heard  the  Squire  say — "  to 


HOLY    ORDERS  273 

accept  another  living.  I  shall  miss  you  from  my  own  part 
of  the  country,  of  course, — but  I'm  sure  it  would  be  kinder 
to  you  to  remove  you  from  the  scene  of  the  awful  tragedy 
that  has  befallen  you.  I  have  no  other  living  vacant  in  my 
own  gift,  but  I  can  help  you  to  secure  an  excellent  one 
where  you  will  be  among  more  congenial  people  and  sur- 
roundings, and  then — perhaps — in  time, — the  wound  will 
heal " 

So  far  Everton  listened,  silently, — then  he  answered  in 
low  and  trembling  accents — 

"  It  is  a  wound  too  deep  for  healing!  " — he  said — "  And 
I  cannot  leave  Shadbrook, — not  now !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  persisted  the  Squire — "  My  dear  Everton, 
think  of  it!  You  will  be  insufferably  lonely  here, — the 
whole  character  and  type  of  the  place  is  opposed  to  your 
character  and  type, — besides  your  capabilities  fit  you  for  a 
wider  field  of  action " 

"  A  man  makes  his  own  field  of  action," — answered 
Everton,  gaining  strength  as  the  burden  of  his  thoughts 
found  relief  in  speech — "  It  is  my  own  fault  that  I  have 
not  made  mine  yet — but  I  will, — and  in  Shadbrook!  It  is 
large  and  wide  enough  to  contain  a  great  sorrow — perhaps 
it  will  also  hold  a  great  love!  My  dear  Mr.  Hazlitt,  you 
are  goodness  itself,  and  I  thank  you  from  my  heart! — but, 
do  not  urge  me  to  accept  your  offer!  My  work  is  cut  out 
for  me  here." 

The  Squire  looked  distressed. 

"  The  work  is  not  important," — he  began, — "  And  much 
of  it  must  be  distasteful " 

"  All  the  more  reason  why  I  should  do  it," — said  Ever- 
ton— "  Besides," — and  his  eyes  grew  dark  with  repressed 
anguish — "  you  surely  would  not  ask  me  to  leave  this  house 
where  she  lived — or  the  churchyard  where  she  rests? — and 
where  I  pray  God  I  may  be  permitted  to  rest  beside  her !  " 

His  voice  quivered, — the  Squire  pressed  his  hand  sym- 
pathetically. 

"  There,  we  will  speak  no  more  of  it," — he  said — "  But 
if  at  any  time  you  should  change  your  mind,  remember  I 
am  ready  always  to  do  my  best  for  you." 

Everton  thanked  him  mutely  by  a  glance, — and  by-and-bye 
he  and  the  other  funeral  guests  departed  their  several  ways, 


274  HOLY     ORDERS 

and  the  shadows  of  evening  closed  darkly  in  upon  the 
desolate  Vicarage.  Edward  Darell,  who  had  wished  very 
much  to  stay  the  night  with  his  old  college  friend  and 
help  to  comfort  him  in  his  affliction,  could  not  do  so  on 
account  of  duties  elsewhere,  but  he  went  away  with  con- 
siderable reluctance. 

"Do  you  remain  with  the  Vicar  to-night?"  he  asked 
Sebastien  Douay  on  leaving. 

"  That  will  be  as  he  pleases," — answered  Douay — "  I  am 
only  one  poor  friend  at  his  service, — he  has  another  and  a 
better  one  in  his  son." 

Darell  smiled  gravely. 

"  Ah!  Only  a  child  of  five,"  he  said—"  The  poor  little 
fellow  cannot  understand  his  father's  grief." 

"  Perhaps  not," — said  Douay — "  But  that  is  because  he's 
more  of  a  Christian  than  any  of  us." 

Darell  looked  surprised. 

"  More  of  a  Christian  ?  " — he  repeated  queryingly. 

"  Precisely!     He  really  believes.     We  do  not." 

"We?"     Darell  echoed  the  word  markedly. 

Douay  gave  a  slight  expressive  gesture  of  sadness. 

"  Enfin !  Monsieur,  if  I  question  your  faith,  pardon  me ! 
I  personally  do  not  believe  as  the  little  child  believes,  and 
so  I  am  not  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  But  I  will  accept 
your  assurance  that  you  are  as  the  little  child,  and,  there- 
fore, an  exception  to  all  Churchmen,  both  Catholique  and 
Protestant  alike !  " 

Darell  reddened. 

"  I  do  not  say  that  I  am  as  a  little  child  in  simplicity  and 
innocence," — he  answered — "  But  I  do  say  that  I  believe!  " 

Douay  raised  his  eyebrows  plaintively. 

"  Do  you  ?  Do  you  believe  the  poor  little  murdered 
woman  we  have  just  laid  in  the  earth  is  now  still  alive  and 
happy?  That  she  is  an  angel  in  that  Somewhere,  which 
with  all  our  creeds,  we  can  place  Nowhere?  If  so,  she 
must  be  a  very  solitary  and  sad  angel,  crying  her  pretty 
eyes  out  for  husband  and  baby!  For  that  is  all  she  cared 
for  in  this  world,  and  for  the  marvels  of  unknown  worlds 
to  come  she  had  no  inclination!  That  does  not  make  the 
cruelty  of  her  end  less,  but  rather  more." 

Darell  listened,  a  trifle  perplexed.     He  did  not  know  in 


HOLY    ORDERS  275 

what  spirit  to  take  this  little  professing  priest  of  a  rival 
Church,  who,  despite  the  restrictions  of  his  order,  appeared 
to  be  something  of  a  secular  philosopher  as  well.  Moreover 
he  was  one  of  those  clergymen  whom  acute  sorrow  has  not 
closely  and  personally  touched;  and  he  moved  austerely 
within  the  somewhat  narrow  circle  of  a  college  education 
in  theology,  bordered  by  an  equally  narrow  boundary  of 
conventional  custom  and  prejudice.  He  considered  Douay 
eccentric;  and,  unwilling  to  continue  a  conversation  which 
might  draw  him  beyond  his  usual  *  form '  or  out  of  his 
depth,  he  ended  it  by  murmuring  a  few  more  commonplace 
expressions  of  sympathy  respecting  Mrs.  Everton's  untimely 
end,  and  then  took  his  leave.  Douay  watched  him  go  out 
of  the  Vicarage  gate  with  a  rather  pained  smile. 

"  There  is  a  man,"  he  thought, — "  one  of  thousands, — 
who  would  rather  not  ask  himself  the  reasons  for  his  faith 
and  ministration,^who  declines  to  be  honest  with  himself, 
or  try  to  see  his  own  soul  as  God  sees  it.  The  position  is 
good  in  one  way,  but  bad  in  another.  For  it  is  selfish !  It 
seeks  to  save  personal  trouble — but  it  is  not  faith.  To  have 
the  courage  to  know  and  to  do! — that  is  what  God  demands 
from  the  truly  faithful, — that  is  what  Everton  has,  when  he 
is  sufficiently  strong  to  realize  it.  What  a  gain  he  would 
be  to  Rome! — but  he  will  never  belong  to  us — never!  For 
he  will  obey  no  Superior  save  God !  " 

Entering  the  study  where  he  had  left  Everton  sitting 
solitary  and  silent  in  his  arm-chair,  he  found  him  looking 
over  the  various  letters  and  cards  of  condolence  which  lay 
scattered  in  profusion  on  his  writing-table. 

"  Is  it  needful  to  do  that  to-day,  my  friend  ?  "  he  asked 
gently — "  Would  it  not  be  better  to  rest  ?  " 

Everton  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  expressed  an  un- 
utterable despair. 

"  I  shall  never  rest  again !  " — he  said — "  Not  in  the  full 
sense  that  rest  implies — until  the  end !  I  must  occupy  every 
moment  now, — every  moment,  Douay! — or  I  shall  go  mad! 
The  old  days  of  leisurely  study  are  over, — there  is  no  more 
pleasure  in  peace!  I  must  work,  and  I  must  fight — Oh 
my  God,  yes!  I  must  fight  hard " 

He  broke  off — and  seemed  to  lose  himself  m  a  sudden 
mist  of  misery. 


276  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  Yes,  you  will  fight  against  your  sorrow," — said  Douay 
soothingly — "  That  will  be  well  for  you !  and  brave " 

"Against  my  sorrow?  "  Everton's  voice  rang  out  with  a 
sudden  bitter  clearness — "  No !  I  shall  not  fight  against 
that,  for  that  may  be  my  only  safety!  Douay,  don't  you 
understand?  I  must  fight  against  a  far  worse  enemy  than 
sorrow — an  enemy  that  is  tearing  my  soul  to  shreds  at  this 
very  moment — the  monstrous  mocking  devil  of  Doubt !  " 

His  face  was  white  with  strongly  suppressed  emotion; 
the  trouble  of  his  mind  expressed  itself  in  his  very  attitude, 
and  Douay  met  his  anguished,  appealing  gaze  with  a  tender 
and  compassionate  serenity. 

"  In  my  Church,"  he  said  softly,  "  there  is  no  room  for 
Doubt!" 

"No  room?  No! — and  why?  Because  you  are  slaves! 
— not  to  God,  but  to  Man !  "  And  the  pent-up  storm  of 
thought  suddenly  let  loose  poured  itself  out  in  a  torrent  of 
unpremeditated  speech — "  And  yet — one  of  the  slaves  as 
you  are  and  as  you  are  bound  to  be,  doubt  creeps  in  on  your 
soul  as  on  mine! — and  sometimes — only  sometimes — you 
wonder,  as  I  do,  whether  the  great  Creator  is  the  lover  or 
the  hater  of  all  that  He  had  made!  Douay,  forgive  me! — 
be  patient  with  me! — I  must  speak!  You  are  happier  than 
I  in  one  respect — you  have  never  loved — you  have  never 
married.  Your  Church  knows  so  well  that  the  ties  of 
human  affection  are  so  much  stronger  than  all  that  religion 
can  teach,  that  she  wisely  forbids  them  to  her  priests.  She 
sets  before  you  Woman  as  a  snare  of  the  devil,  instead  of 
being  what  she  is  at  her  best — man's  only  guardian  angel! 
Douay,  if  you  knew if  you  knew !  " 

He  paced  the  room  restlessly,  and  Douay,  answering 
nothing,  sat  down  by  the  writing-desk,  leaning  one  elbow 
on  it  and  covering  his  eyes  with  his  hand. 

"  If  you  knew,"  went  on  Everton,  passionately — "  what 
my  wife  was  to  me!  Oh,  she  was  so  full  of  sweet  unwis- 
dom!— so  foolishly  loving! — such  a  child  in  her  fancies,  and 
so  pure  in  her  soul!  There  was  nothing  heroic  or  strong 
about  her — she  was  no  guide,  no  adviser, — but  she  was  all 
sweetness — just  that! — all  tenderness, — the  very  balm  for 
my  wounds  of  life!  You  do  not  know, — you  cannot  feel — 
how  should  you? — what  it  is  to  love!  There  was  no  gress 


HOLY    ORDERS  277 

passion  in  such  love  as  ours;  it  was  a  love  that  God  Himself 
might  have  spared  had  He  been  kind!  But  you  do  not  un- 
derstand. You  have  missed  it  all.  It  is  what  a  dying  lad 
said  to  me  three  years  ago  when  I  tried  to  comfort  him  with 
the  hope  of  Heaven — '  Love  is  what  the  Lord  Christ  never 
knew — it's  what  He  missed — love  for  a  woman — and  there 
He  fails  to  be  our  brother  in  sorrow.'  That's  true!  The 
priests  of  your  Church  try  to  follow  His  example, — but  He 
was  divine — priests  are  but  men — and  men  cannot  live  with- 
out love ! " 

With  that  he  checked  himself  abruptly  and  stood  rapt 
in  a  sudden  cloud  of  thought.  Douay  removed  his  hand 
from  his  eyes  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Well !  "  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  trembled  a  little — 
"  You  have  not  finished.  Go  on !  " 

With  a  quick  start  Everton  came  out  of  his  momentary 
reverie.  He  met  Douay's  steady  glance,  and  gave  a  wearied, 
half-apologetic  gesture. 

"  You  see  my  condition," — he  said,  more  calmly — "  It 
is  one  of  fear  and,  if  I  may  put  it  so,  of  horrible  amazement 
that  God  whom  we  worship  as  '  Our  Father '  can,  for  no 
cause  at  all,  so  grievously  afflict  His  miserable  creation! 
For  half  our  sins  are  the  result  of  ignorance  which  is  not 
our  fault, — and  the  love  we  are  instinctively  moved  to  feel 
for  one  another  is  the  best  part  of  us.  Only  think  of  it! 
This  very  day  last  week  Azalea,  was  alive — here,  in  my 
arms, — now,  her  sweet  body  is  lying  stiff  and  cold  and 
lonely  down  in  the  dark  earth, — and  how  has  this  cruelty 
been  wrought?  Simply  because  Heaven  and  the  fates  have 
favored  a  drunkard's  vengeance!  A  drunkard! — his  dis- 
eased brain  and  reckless  hand  pitted  against  the  pure  life  of 
an  innocent  woman!  Is  it  just?  Is  it  sport  for  the  Al- 
mighty? Tell  me?  Can  it  be  called  Divine  sport?— or 
Divine  malice  ?  " 

"Richard,  Richard!"  exclaimed  Douay,  in  poignant  ac- 
cents of  grief — "  I  cannot  hear  you  say  these  wild  things, 
my  friend!  No! — for  you  are  not  wicked, — you  are  not 
blasphemous, — you  are  an  honest  and  courageous  man! 
But  your  soul  is  hanging  on  the  cross  to-day — and  with  our 
Blessed  Lord  Himself  you  cry:  '  My  God,  my  God,  why 
hast  Thou  forsaken  me ! '  My  friend,  my  dear,  dear  friend, 


278  HOLY     ORDERS 

be  patient!  Sorrow  is  as  necessary  to  the  spirit  as  pain  is 
to  the  body.  Without  pain,  we  should  not  appreciate  health 
— without  sorrow  we  should  not  understand  joy.  Surely 
this  is  the  obvious?  Your  great  and  terrible  grief  has  been 
visited  upon  you  for  some  necessary  purpose — you  do  not  see 
it? — no! — but  do  not  question  the  ways  of  the  Almighty, 
Richard ! — do  not  question !  Say  '  Thy  Will  be  done  ' — 
with  a  pure  intention  and  wait!  " 

He  was  strongly  moved,  and  his  kind  eyes  were  full  of 
tears.  But  Richard  stood  looking  at  him,  coldly  impassive. 

"  You  talk  of  sorrow  and  joy,  pain  and  health," — he  said 
— "  as  if  these  things  could  any  more  affect  me !  Do  you 
not  realize  that  there  may  be  a  state  of  mind  which  no 
emotion  can  touch?  That  the  soul  of  a  man  may  be  so 
numbed  by  speechless  agony  that  even  physical  torture  would 
scarcely  draw  from  him  a  groan,  and  that  in  the  dull  monot- 
ony of  the  daily  round  there  is  nothing  he  so  entirely  longs 
for  as  death  to  end  all?  Do  you  know  these  lines  of  a 
modern  poet? 

"The  pulse  of  war  and  passion  of  wonder, 

The  heavens  that  murmur,  the  sounds  that  shine, 

The  stars  that  sing  and  the  loves  that  thunder, 
The  music  burning  at  heart  like  wine, 

An  armed  archangel  whose  hands  raise  up 

All  senses  mixed  in  the  spirit's  cup, 

Till  flesh  and  spirit  are  molten   asunder — 
These  things  are  over  and  no  more  mine ! " 

His  voice,  full  in  tone  at  first,  dropped  to  a  tired  whisper, 
and  he  stared  with  a  melancholy,  unseeing  gaze  out  through 
the  window  across  which  the  curtains  were  not  yet  drawn 
for  the  night.  Two  or  three  stars  sparkled  in  the  glimmer 
of  sky  behind  the  panes, — the  reflection  of  the  lamp  in  the 
room  flung  a  ray  of  light  across  the  grass.  The  shapes  of 
the  trees  were  blurred  in  shadows, — the  whole  view  of  the 
garden,  so  lovely  by  day,  seemed  '  without  form  and  void.' 
A  deep  sigh  broke  from  his  lips. 

"  I  am  not  fit  to  speak  to  you,  Douay," — he  went  on, 
after  a  heavy  pause — "  Nor  am  I  sufficiently  myself  to 
listen  to  consolation.  All  I  can  think  of  is  that  the  light  of 
my  life  has  gone  out, — and  that  my  darling  lies  there  all 


HOLY    ORDERS  279 

alone," — and  he  pointed  to  the  outside  darkness  where  the 
tower  of  Shadbrook  Church  showed  just  the  faintest  gleam 
of  gray-whiteness  through  the  black  clumps  of  trees — 
"Alone, — without  husband  or  child, — alone  in  the  grave!'* 
— he  stopped  a  moment, — then  continued  slowly — "  by 
God's  will!  And  I  must  be  alone,  too,  to-night,  to  reason 
with  my  destiny — to  see  if  I  can  understand  it, — so  I  will 
ask  you  to  leave  me  to  myself.  Do  not  look  so  anxious! — 
you  need  not  be  afraid  that  I  will  do  any  violence  to  my 
own  wretched  being.  I  am  not  a  coward.  If  I  were  I 
should  not  want  to  get  face  to  face  with  God's  intention 
towards  me.  You  are  the  kindest  of  friends,  Douay! — and 
I  thank  you  from  my  heart  for  all  you  have  been  and  are  to 
me,— but  go  now! — go  back  to  your  own  little  peaceful 
sanctuary  where  there  is  '  no  room  for  doubt ' — and  leave 
me  and  the  devils  that  beset  me  to  fight  it  out  together !  " 

Something  singularly  compelling  and  powerful  was  in  his 
expression  as  he  said  these  words,  and  Douay  was  fully  con- 
scious of  the  magnetism  of  a  soul  and  intellect  stronger  than 
his  own. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish !  "  he  answered  simply,  almost 
humbly — "  I  will  come  again " 

"  No — let  me  come  to  you  first," — said  Everton — "  Give 
me  time.  For  I  will  not  come  till  I  have  conquered,  or  am 
conquered !  " 

With  very  few  more  words  they  parted.  Everton  left  to 
his  own  company  in  the  house, — a  house  now  grown  so 
quiet  since  the  merry  laughter  and  light  step  of  its  fair  mis- 
tress had  ceased  to  stir  the  soft  echoes, — stood  for  a  few 
minutes  listening  to  the  complete  silence.  Then  going 
noiselessly  upstairs,  he  entered  the  nursery.  Little  Laurence 
was  there,  fast  asleep.  His  nurse  had,  at  Squire  Hazlitt's 
suggestion,  taken  him  to  Shadbrook  Hall  for  the  day  while 
his  mother's  funeral  was  in  progress,  and  he  had  been 
brought  back  after  it  was  over,  rather  tired  and  perplexed. 
Curled  up  cosily  in  his  little  bed,  with  one  chubby  arm  out- 
side the  coverlet,  he  looked  the  fairer  and  finer  image  of 
Azalea  in  her  fairest  and  sweetest  moods,  and  Everton  bent 
over  him  with  a  tenderness  more  sad  than  fond. 

"  How  much  better  for  him  to  die  now !  "  he  thought — 
"  With  all  his  beliefs  untouched — his  dreams  unspoilt — 


28o  HOLY     ORDERS 

than  to  live  on  and  lose  everything,  even  to  the  loss  of  faith 
in  God!" 

Then, — half  ashamed  of  the  bitterness  that  was  in  him — 
he  softly  withdrew,  and  going  down  again  to  his  study  re- 
sumed the  almost  mechanical  occupation  in  which  Douay 
had  interrupted  him, — the  sorting  of  the  letters  and  cards 
of  condolence  which  would  all  have  to  be  acknowledged. 
In  doing  this  he  came  upon  several  which  had  not  yet  been 
opened, — one  among  these,  with  a  gold  crest  emblazoned  on 
the  flap  of  the  square-shaped  envelope,  had  a  faint,  cloying 
perfume  about  it  that  affected  him  with  a  sense  of  nausea. 
He  glanced  at  the  handwriting,  which  was  quite  unfamiliar 
to  him,  and  opened  it.  The  sickly  scent  grew  stronger  as 
he  drew  out  a  small  creamy  sheet  of  notepaper,  also  crested 
in  gold,  but  bearing  no  address.  A  couple  of  lines  were 
written  on  it; — • 

'  I  am  sorry  for  your  sorrow. 

JACYNTH/ 

The  letter  dropped  from  his  hand  to  the  floor,  and  he  sat 
inert,  lest  in  somber  musing. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

WHEN  anything  tragic  or  unfortunate  occurs  in  a  family 
it  is  the  usual  custom  to  shut  up  the  house  and  go 
away  for  a  change  of  air  and  scene.  That  Richard  Ever- 
ton  did  not  follow  this  conventional  line  of  action  was  a 
surprise  to  all  those  excellent  people  who  expected  him  to 
do  as  they  themselves  would  have  done  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances. It  was  extraordinary,  they  said, — quite  ex- 
traordinary— that  he  did  not  at  once  take  a  trip  abroad  or 
something  of  that  kind.  For  there  is  a  curious  idea  deeply 
implanted  in  the  minds  of  society-mongers  that  if  your  heart 
is  broken  or  your  life  wrecked,  you  will  be  all  right  if  you 
go  to  Paris  or  Vienna  or  even  New  York.  Home,  on  which 
you  may  possibly  have  expended  your  tenderest  care,  as 
well  as  most  of  your  cash,  is  supposed  to  exercise  no  binding 
or  soothing  influence  upon  you.  You  must  immediately 
start  forth  like  a  wandering  cat  and  howl  your  griefs  to  the 
moon  on  foreign  pantiles  rather  than  on  your  own.  It  was, 
therefore,  incredible,  said  the  Everybody  that  is  Nobody, 
that  the  Vicar  of  Shadbrook  should  remain  in  his  Vicarage 
all  alone  after  the  burial  of  his  murdered  wife,  and  show  no 
intention  of  moving,  not  even  for  so  much  as  a  week-end. 
Perhaps  the  poor  man  was  going  mad?  And  the  gossips 
shook  their  heads  and  pursed  their  lips  gloomily  when  they 
heard  that  he  kept  himself  for  the  most  part  shut  up  within 
the  four  walls  of  his  study  reading  and  writing  and  seeing 
no  visitors,  his  only  companion  being  his  little  son.  The 
duties  of  the  parish  were  attended  to  meanwhile  by  a  mild 
young  curate,  who  being  temporarily  '  unattached,'  had 
agreed  (for  a  consideration,  of  course),  to  act  under  the 
Vicar's  orders  for  a  fortnight,  at  the  expiration  of  which 
time  it  was  understood  that  Everton  would  have  rallied 
sufficiently  from  the  paralyzing  blow  that  had  fallen  upon 
him  to  undertake  his  usual  round  of  work.  So  for  two  Sun- 
days the  mild  young  curate  took  the  services,  and  preached, 
or  rather  bleated,  innocuous  sermons  of  a  nature  not  much 

281 


282  HOLY     ORDERS 

above  the  comprehension  of  a  child  of  four, — sermons  that 
sent  nearly  all  the  congregation  to  sleep,  and  moved  even 
the  mentally  quiescent  Mrs.  Moddley  to  remark  that  she 
'never  did  'ear  such  a  dull  bit  o'  Christianity  in  all  her 
mortal  days.' 

And  Everton,  for  the  time  indifferent  to  the  opinions 
expressed  either  by  his  parishioners  or  by  the  outside  world, 
stayed  in  the  seclusion  and  silence  of  his  home,  made  so 
desolate  now  by  the  loss  of  her  who  had  been  its  embodied 
joy,  and  watched  from  his  study  window  the  gradual  bright- 
ening of  the  springtime  in  his  garden,  often  wondering 
vaguely  how  it  was  that  trees  could  break  into  leaf,  and  roses 
lift  their  fair  buds  to  the  sun  when  Azalea  was  dead.  Yet 
he  knew  very  well  that  Nature  has  neither  time  nor  space 
for  regret.  Her  lesson  is  ever  to  re-create  life  out  of  seem- 
ing death, — a  lesson  which  is  the  alphabet  of  the  Higher 
immortality.  Gradually,  very  gradually,  he  attained  suffi- 
cient strength  and  self  poise  to  be  able  to  study  his  own 
dual  being; — the  body,  which  clamored  and  wept  for  its 
lost  delight — the  soul,  which,  stripped  of  all  comfortable 
and  merely  conventional  methods  of  religion,  stood  face  to 
face  with  the  vast  problems  of  life  and  death — life  and  death 
as  variously  meted  out  to  human  beings  by  the  Creator  in 
so  apparently  indifferent  a  manner,  that  we  are  apt  to  call 
His  will  '  capricious,'  when  it  is  never  anything  else  than 
the  fulfillment  of  a  law  whose  workings  we  are  too  ignorant 
to  perceive  or  to  define.  And  in  solitary  meditation  he  re- 
membered, how  when  the  trouble  had  first  begun  in  the 
parish,  and  his  wife  had  gone  away  for  a  time  terrified  by 
the  mere  hint  of  a  threat  from  Dan  Kiernan,  he  had  in  the 
loneliness  then  engendered  by  her  absence,  uttered  a  prayer 
that  was  like  a  vow : — "  Command  me  as  Thou  wilt !  Send 
me  Thy  Holy  Orders,  and  even  if  they  lead  me  to  my  death, 
I,  ordained  to  serve  Thee,  will  obey!"  Were  those  words 
spoken  lightly?  Was  he  ready  to  draw  back  now?  Could 
lie  not  tread  on  the  waves  of  sorrow  and  go  forth  to  meet 
liis  Master  there  ?  Or  was  he  like  Peter  who,  '  when  he  saw 
the  wind  boisterous  he  was  afraid,' — and,  therefore,  out  of 
iear,  began  to  sink? 

"  O  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  ?  " 
The  gentle,  reproachful  words  rang  in  his  ears.     '  O  thou 


HOLY    ORDERS  283 

of  little  faith ! '  He  thought  of  the  modern  world — a  world 
of  such  '  little  faith  '  as  to  be  scarcely  any  faith  at  all — a 
world  that  has  exchanged  the  Gospel  of  Christ  for  that  of 
personal  convenience, — and  he  realized  as  he  had  often  done 
before,  that  Self  was  the  god  of  each  man's  idolatry.  Then 
was  he  too  a  Self-worshiper?  Would  he  imprison  earth 
and  heaven  within  the  narrow  ring  of  his  own  particular 
misery  ?  '  O  thou  of  little  faith ! ' 

Alone  he  struggled  with  himself,  beset  by  a  thousand 
temptations.  One  of  these  was  to  resign  the  church  alto- 
gether and  give  up  his  ministry.  The  reason  that  suggested 
itself  for  this  was  that  he  was  now  uncertain  whether  he 
would  be  able  to  preach  with  conviction.  If  he  in  his  own 
heart  felt  that  God  was  cruel,  how  could  he  emphasize  to 
others  the  truth  of  the  Divine  Beneficence?  A  man  could 
only  speak  from  his  own  experience.  And  experience  had 
given  him  a  bitter  lesson  which  seemed  wantonly  wicked 
and  unnecessary.  Unnecessary?  Yes.  Surely,  quite  un- 
necessary. And  yet — there  was  a  latent  trouble  lurking" 
in  his  mind  which  he  could  not  express, — a  vague  longing 
to  take  up  the  cross  that  had  been  thrown  so  ruthlessly  at 
his  feet — a  cross  so  heavy  to  bear  that  his  whole  spirit  recoiled 
and  rebelled  at  the  lifting  of  it.  And  presently  his  thoughts, 
collecting  round  one  center,  settled  on  that  alone,  and  he 
asked  himself  straightly — "  Do  I  believe,  or  do  I  not  be- 
lieve? Am  I  sure  that  I  accept  Christ  as  God-in-Man  and 
that  I  faithfully  seek  not  only  to  interpret,  but  to  live  His 
Gospel?" 

From  this  point  he  plunged  into  an  abyss  of  darkness  and 
the  shadow  of  death, — into  a  No-Man's-Land  of  wonder 
and  fear.  A  long  procession  of  the  Churches  as  they  are 
organized  to-day  passed  before  his  mind's  eye, — Churches 
for  the  most  part  built  up  on  some  sort  of  self-constituted 
dogma,  in  which  the  simple  teaching  of  the  loving  Saviour 
is  almost  entirely  excluded.  He  thought  of  various  '  old  '  and 
'  new '  theologies,  which  set  aside  the  divinity  of  Christ  as 
a  fable,  and  assume  to  teach  that  the  poor  potentiality  of 
erring  and  ignorant  man  is  all-sufficient  to  make  of  himself 
a  god, — and  he  questioned  whether  he,  a  slight  reed  set 
against  the  wind,  could  be  of  any  service  to  combat  the  grow- 
ing heresy  of  the  world.  Slowly  the  answer  was  given — 


284  HOLY     ORDERS 

little  by  little  through  the  midnight  gloom  of  uncertainty 
came  flickering  gleams  of  light, — his  spirit  struggled  out  of 
the  blinding  storm  which  had  beaten  him  down  and  over- 
whelmed him,  into  a  pale  new  dawn  of  hope  and  courage, — 
and  one  night  he  found  himself  on  his  knees,  praying  humbly 
and  fervently  for  pardon  as  well  as  for  guidance  to  that 
strong  sweet  Force  of  Divine  Love  than  which  there  is 
nothing  sweeter  or  stronger,  and  to  which  no  human  soul 
ever  truly  appealed  in  vain. 

And  when  at  last  the  Sunday  came  on  which  he  had  de- 
cided to  resume  duty,  he  was  ready.  Ready  to  face  his 
congregation — ready,  with  strong  heart,  steady  pulse  and 
firm  soul.  The  mist  of  tears  and  fire  in  his  brain  had 
cleared, — he  was  able  to  review  every  incident  calmly, — 
to  think  of  his  dead  wife  as  an  ever-present,  unseen,  but 
actual  companion — and  to  even  spare  a  noble  pity  for  the 
fate  of  the  wretched  Dan  Kiernan  whose  end  had  been  so 
swift  and  horrible,  and  whose  mangled  body  had,  after  the 
brief  inquest  and  usual  verdict  in  such  cases,  been  hastily 
buried  by  the  parish  within  whose  boundaries  it  had  been 
found, — all  these  gruesome  memories  now  settled  as  it  were 
into  a  kind  of  dark  horizon  where  the  clouds  hung  black 
and  heavy  without  the  power  to  rise, — but  in  the  fore- 
ground light  had  begun  to  shine. 

On  the  last  Saturday  of  his  self-imposed  solitude,  Brand 
called  in  the  evening  to  see  how  he  was.  Everton  received 
him  kindly,  and  with  a  quiet  pathos  that  rather  shook  the 
good  doctor  from  his  own  composure. 

"  And  so  you  are  going  to  preach  to-morrow  ?  " — he  said 
— "Are  you  sure  you  are  equal  to  it?" 

Everton  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  I  think  so," — he  answered — "  I  hope  so." 

Brand  took  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  the  room.  The 
window  was  open,  and  the  soft  evening  caroling  of  the 
birds  echoed  sweetly  on  the  outside  air. 

"  How's  the  boy?"  he  inquired. 

"Laurence?     Very  well.     He  is  a  great  help  to  me." 

Brand  looked  at  him  curiously.  It  was  odd  to  hear  a 
baby  of  five  described  as  '  a  great  help  '  to  his  father ; — 
if  he  had  said  '  a  great  comfort '  that  would  have  been 
understood.  But  '  a  great  help  ' !  However 


HOLY    ORDERS  285 

"  I  don't  know  whether  the  matter  will  interest  you," 
— he  went  on — "  But  Minchin's  Brewery " 

Everton  raised  a  hand  appealingly. 

"Must  I  hear  this?" 

"  There's  no  '  must '  in  the  case," — answered  Brand  with 
a  smile — "  But  you  may  as  well  know  that  Minchin  is  in 
trouble.  He  can  get  no  hands  to  work  for  him." 

Everton  was  silent. 

"  He  has  sent  all  over  the  place,"  continued  Brand — 
"  And  despite  the  number  of  unemployed  both  in  the  coun- 
ties and  London,  it  seems  there  are  no  men  to  be  had  for 
his  particular  job.  In  fact,  the  Brewery  is  regularly  boy- 
cotted. And  some  one  has  doubled  the  mischief  by  starting 
a  report  that  it's  haunted." 

"  Haunted!  "  Everton  echoed  the  word — then  gave  vent 
to  a  long  shuddering  sigh — "  It  might  well  be  so!  " 

"  So  it  might," — and  Brand  walked  to  the  window  and 
looked  out  on  the  garden,  now  glorious  with  a  wealth  of 
early  summer  blossoms — "  Though  I  don't  believe  in  ghosts 
myself.  But  a  large  majority  of  humankind  are  very  super- 
stitious, and  a  rumor  of  that  sort  is  very  successful  in  keep- 
ing people  away  from  the  supposed  haunted  spot.  And  a 
wandering  phantom,  real  or  imaginary,  of  Dan  Kiernan, 
such  as  they  say  has  been  seen,  is  apt  to  create  an  unpleasant 
impression."  He  paused, — then  went  on — "  No  single  case 

of  drunkenness  in  the  village  has  occurred  since 

since " 

The  Vicar  interrupted  him  by  a  gesture. 

"  I  understand !  "  he  said — "  For  the  time  being  there  is 
a  revulsion  against  the  curse  of  our  nation !  But  it  is  only 
for  a  time.  No  power  on  earth  will  stop  the  hideous  debase- 
ment of  the  people  by  drink  till  the  people  themselves  realize 
that  the  brewers  and  distillers  are  coining  millions  of  money 
out  of  the  degradation,  ill-health  and  misery  of  millions  of 
souls.  Then,  perhaps,  when  they  see  that  they,  the  working- 
classes,  who  should  be,  and  are  at  their  best,  the  life  and 
blood  of  the  nation,  are  made  to  serve  as  the  mere  foolish 
tools  of  a  trade,  they  will  awake  to  their  true  position.  They 
will  refuse  to  be  poisoned  in  order  that  the  poisoners  may 
become  capitalists  at  their  expense." 

"  I  see  you  are  as  strong  as  ever  on  the  subject," — said 


286  HOLY    ORDERS 

Brand — "As  indeed  you  ought  to  be — and  even  stronger. 
But  you  must  remember  it  is  not  only  among  the  working- 
classes  that  the  vice  prevails.  Drink  is  as  prevalent  with  the 
gentry  as  with  commoners.  And  I'm  not  sure  that  my 
profession  isn't  as  much  to  blame  for  the  evil  as  any." 

Everton  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  I  mean  the  medical  profession," — went  on  Brand,  an- 
swering the  look ; — "  Nowadays  it  is  quite  a  habit  among 
doctors  to  recommend  whisky  to  their  patients  instead  of 
wine  or  any  other  beverage.  Yet  any  scientific  physician  who 
has  studied  the  matter  and  has  not  been  '  bought  over '  by 
the  trade,  knows  that  whisky  is  injurious  to  the  human  sys- 
tem. The  old  days  when  our  forefathers  took  too  much 
port,  were  better  than  the  present  time,  when  thousands  of 
men  and  women  alike  are  fuddled,  if  not  actually  drunk, 
soon  after  midday,  through  whisky-sipping.  There  was 
something  distinctly  respectable  about  the  port-wine  toper, 
— there's  nothing  in  the  least  '  high-class '  in  the  whisky  sot." 

He  paused, — then  resumed "  You  may,  or  may  not  be 

surprised  at  a  story  I  can  tell  you, — at  any  rate  it's  true! 
A  celebrated  London  physician  whose  name  is,  as  they  say, 
one  to  conjure  with,  gave  an  eloquent  lecture  at  one  of  the 
big  institutions  on  the  pernicious  moral  and  physical  effects 
of  alcohol,  and  illustrated  his  sound  and  sensible  theories  by 
diagrams  shown  with  magic-lantern  brilliancy.  A  month* 
after  he  was  approached  by  a  wealthy  whisky  distiller 
who  offered  him  two  thousand  pounds  to  write  a  book  on 
the  tonic  and  restorative  powers  of  whisky.  Need  I  ex- 
plain that  the  learned  medico  put  his  conscience  in  his  pocket, 
went  back  on  his  own  arguments,  took  the  two  thousand 
pounds,  wrote  the  required  volume,  and  is  now  looked  upon 
as  a  staunch  supporter  of  the  spirit  trade?  The  same  thing 
is  done  daily  on  a  smaller  scale  with  doctors  of  less  dis- 
tinction." 

Everton  gave  a  wearied  gesture  of  sorrowful  contempt. 

"  I  am  not  surprised !  " — he  said — "  Everything  is  done 
nowadays  through  influence,  or  money, — and  even  the  honor 
of  kings  can  be  purchased  for  sufficient  millions!  The  times 
we  live  in  are  corrupt, — our  civilization  is  an  over-ripe  fruit 
rotting  to  its  fall.  What  is  falsely  called  '  rationalism,'  or 
an  '  Age  of  Reason,'  has  always  accompanied  national  decline. 


HOLY    ORDERS  287 

It  occurred  in  Greece  and  in  Rome — it  is  upon  us  now  in 
England.  It  is  a  sure  symptom  that  the  days  of  noble  ideals 
and  enthusiasms  are  past,  and  that  man's  intellect  has  at- 
tained to  such  a  fatal  height  of  pure  egoism  that  he  will 
accept  nothing  greater,  nothing  Higher  than  his  own  opinion. 
Never  was  there  more  urgent  need  of  faith  and  prayer  than 
now!" 

Brand  fixed  a  straight  and  penetrating  glance  upon  him. 

"You  still  believe  in  faith  and  prayer?"  he  said. 

Everton  met  his  eyes  fully  and  calmly. 

"With  all  my  soul!" 

The  worthy  '  Dr.  Harry  '  give  a  short  sigh  of  relief. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come  out  of  the  darkness," — he 
said — "  I  thought- — I  feared " 

"  That  I  might  prove  a  coward ! "  and  Everton's  face 
grew  warm  with  suppressed  feeling — "  To  be  candid  with 
you,  I  feared  the  same!  Such  sorrow  as  mine  pushes  the 
brain  to  the  verge  of  madness — and  in  mad  moments  all 
good  things  reel  away  from  one — even  God!  But  no  sane 
man  doubts  his  Creator, — and — as  you  say — I  have  come  out 
of  the  darkness !  " 

A  silence  more  eloquent  than  speech  fell  between  them, — 
and  when  they  spoke  again  it  was  on  ordinary  topics  con- 
nected with  the  village  and  its  inhabitants.  But  when 
Brand  left  the  Vicar  that  night  he  knew  there  was  no  fear 
of  his  being  unable  to  preach  the  next  morning.  The  man 
was  full  of  strength,  dignity  and  resolve,  and  his  broken 
heart  and  ruined  happiness  had  made  of  him  a  force  to  be 
reckoned  with. 

Not  only  in  Shadbrook  itself,  but  through  all  the  neigh- 
boring parishes,  the  news  soon  flew  that  Everton  was  to 

preach  that  Sunday; 'only  a  fortnight  after  the  burial 

of  his  poor  little  wife ! '  exclaimed  the  county  gossips ; — 
who  would  believe  that  a  man,  and  a  clergyman  too,  could 
be  so  callous!  Actually  to  do  his  duty  in  that  barefaced 
manner,  so  soon  after  the  woman  he  '  professed  '  to  love 
so  much,  had  met  with  such  a  dreadful  end !  Ah,  men,  men ! 
They  had  no  feeling — really  none!  Here  was  a  Christian 
minister  who,  instead  of  throwing  up  his  work  and  going 
away  to  mourn  decently  amid  the  distractions  of  a  foreign 
spa  for  six  months,  had  actually  stayed  on  in  his  own  house, 


288  HOLY     ORDERS 

and  was  now  going  to  take  the  services  and  preach  as  usual, 
just  two  weeks  after  the  terrible  tragedy  which  had  devas- 
tated his  home,  almost  as  if  nothing  had  happened!  It 
was  quite  incredible! 

And  a  crowd  such  as  had  never  been  seen  in  the  whole 
neighborhood  swarmed  up  and  tried  to  cram  itself  into  the 
limited  space  of  Shadbrook  Church,  packing  the  ancient 
little  building  to  overflowing  long  before  eleven,  each  person 
a-tiptoe  with  eagerness  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the  Vicar 
when  he  made  his  reappearance.  This  general  feeling  of 
excitement  was  in  a  sense  morbid,  and  of  the  same  type  as 
that  which  in  the  days  of  the  Inquisition  fired  the  minds  of 
the  torturers  when  they  had  a  man  on  the  rack, — but  un- 
derlying all  surface  interest  there  was  a  deeper  motive  which 
was  half  unconscious, — the  unspoken,  almost  unthought  de- 
sire to  know,  to  see,  and  to  hear  whether  the  victim  of  a 
loss  so  personal,  so  unmerited  and  so  cruel,  could  stand  up 
in  the  pulpit,  and  with  unshaken  voice  and  steadfast  eye  pro- 
claim his  faith  in  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God.  Even 
old  '  Mortar '  Pike,  still  alive,  though  now  unable  to  walk, 
had  himself  wheeled  in  a  chair  as  far  as  the  church  gates 
in  order  to  take  his  feeble  part  in  the  unusual  stir, — and 
when  the  bell  slowly  tolled  the  first  chime  of  eleven  o'clock, 
and  the  organist,  '  all  of  a  shake,'  as  he  himself  expressed  it, 
began  the  opening  bars  of  a  simple  voluntary,  the  silence 
of  the  closely-pressed  congregation  was  so  intense  that  the 
faintest  rustle  of  the  ivy  that  clung  round  the  belfry  tower 
outside  could  be  heard  distinctly  within  the  building.  Softly 
and  tremblingly  the  organ  music  crept  through  the  hushed 
air,  like  a  whisper  of  the  sea  or  the  ripple  of  a  stream, — 
and  the  people  sat  listening,  waiting,  and  wondering  in  a 
tense  condition  of  strained  expectation.  Then, — with  one 
accord  they  rose  as  the  Vicar  entered,  and  all  eyes  were 
turned  on  the  tall  slim  figure  in  its  white  surplice, 
and  the  pale,  delicately-featured  face,  with  its  look  of  de- 
vout patience  and  unspeakable  pathos,  which  expressed  so 
much  sorrow  bravely  borne, — and  men  and  women  alike 
shed  tears  at  the  first  tones  of  the  gentle  deep  voice  as  it 
uttered  the  familiar  opening  sentence : — "  When  the  wicked 
man  turneth  away  from  his  wickedness  that  he  hath  com- 
mitted and  doeth  that  which  is  lawful  and  right  he  shall  save 


HOLY    ORDERS  289 

his  soul  alive."  Then  came  a  briei  pause, — and  the  musical 
accents  trembled  ever  so  slightly  on  the  next  words  chosen : — 

"  The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit ;  a  broken  and 
a  contrite  heart,  O  God,  Thou  wilt  not  despise!  " 

And  when  people  sank  on  their  knees  to  join  in  the  general 
confession,  sounds  of  suppressed  sobbing  mingled  with  the 
murmured  prayer.  Many  wept  heartily  and  were  not 
ashamed  of  the  weakness, — for  as  Mrs.  Moddley  afterwards 
remarked  to  her  neighbors: — "to  see  Parson  Everton  look- 
ing as  pale  as  a  ghost,  and  as  patient  as  a  saint  carved  out 
o'  marble,  was  enough  to  break  down  the  'ardest  feelins, 
which  some  folks  feelins  was  'arder  than  flints  as  the  Lord 
very  well  know'd." 

Conscious  of  the  deep  sympathy  that  flowed  out  to  him 
from  his  congregation,  and  hearing  every  now  and  again 
the  stifled  weeping  of  some  of  the  women  and  children,  Ever- 
ton was  at  many  a  moment  shaken  from  his  enforced  com- 
posure, but  he  carried  the  service  bravely  through,  and  only 
when  he  mounted  the  pulpit  and  looked  down  on  the  un- 
usual crowd  of  faces  below  him, — many  faces  quite  strange 
to  him  among  others  quite  familiar,  all  expressing  an  eager 
curiosity  as  well  as  pity — did  he  feel  a  sudden  sick  terror 
of  himself — a  dread  lest  his  powers  should  fail  him  at  the 
last  moment.  He  saw  the  place  where  Azalea  used  to  sit, 
— where  her  golden  hair  had  caught  the  light  from  a  side 
window  and  had  gleamed  like  a  web  of  the  sunshine  itself, 
— where  her  loving  and  lovely  blue  eyes  had  glanced  up  at 
him  in  shy  reverence  as  he  had  given  out  the  text  of  his 
sermon; — the  bench  was  eloquently  empty;  and  though  the 
congregation  was  inconveniently  crowded,  no  one  had  tres- 
passed upon  its  vacancy.  He  leaned  both  hands  heavily 
upon  the  velvet  cushion  in  front  of  him  and  closed  his  eyes 
with  an  inward  prayer  for  strength, — his  heart  beat  thickly, 
and  the  blood  surged  noisily  in  his  ears, — his  throat  and  lips 
grew  dry  and  burning,  and  he  wondered  whether  he  could 
so  much  as  utter  another  word.  Yet  to  all  appearance  he 
was  perfectly  self-possessed,  and  when  at  last  he  essayed  to 
speak,  his  voice,  to  his  own  astonishment,  rang  out  with  a 
thrilling  clearness  as  he  gave  his  text  from  the  eighth  chapter 
of  St.  John: 

"  Because  I  tell  you  the  truth  you  believe  Me  not." 


290  HOLY    ORDERS 

With  the  very  pronouncing  of  these  words  the  flood-gates 
of  long-pent-up  thoughts  were  opened,  and  a  tide  of  elo- 
quence such  as  the  parishioners  of  Shadbrook  had  never  heard 
or  dreamed  of,  came  pouring  from  his  lips, — such  fiery  elo- 
quence as  might  have  inspired  an  early  apostle  for  whom 
neither  thrones,  principalities  nor  powers  existed,  but  only 
the  one  Supreme  God.  He  spoke  of  the  pitiful  egoism  of 
modern  thought, — of  the  apathy  of  the  world  to  the  gradual 
widening  of  the  breach  between  itself  and  the  Message  Di- 
vine,— he  drew  a  powerful  and  vivid  picture  of  humanity 
left  without  the  saving  grace  of  the  Christ  Ideal; — and — 
pointing  out  the  beautiful  obedience  to  law  displayed  by 
the  natural  creation,  he  entered  into  a  passionate  pleading 
for  all  things  good  and  tender  and  true,  between  man  and 
his  brother  man.  Such  sentences  as  might  have  graced  the 
pages  of  Novalis  came  to  him  with  an  ease  and  spontaneity 
that  would  have  distinguished  the  finest  of  born  orators, 
and  yet  he  was  himself  unconscious  that  he  was  saying  any- 
thing out  of  the  usual  commonplace  run  of  orthodoxy.  He 
did  not  realize  that  the  long,  quiet  six  years  of  his  married 
life  had,  because  they  were  happy  and  full  of  personal  satis- 
faction, been  unproductive, — or  that  the  very  sense  of  the 
settled  security  he  had  felt  in  his  home  had  effectually  kept 
his  thoughts  chained  up  as  in  a  prison-house; — nor  would 
he  have  admitted,  even  if  it  had  been  suggested,  that  intel- 
lectual growth  and  advancement  are  seldom,  if  ever,  asso- 
ciated with  purely  domestic  comfort  and  tranquillity.  Cer- 
tainly the  Spirit  moved  him  as  it  had  often  moved  him  to 
write  though  never  to  speak, — and  his  listeners  hung  on  his 
every  word,  intent,  enrapt,  amazed  and  fascinated, — hushed 
into  a  stillness  so  intense  that  not  even  the  fold  of  a  woman's 
garment  stirred.  Presently  he  came  to  a  pause.  With  a 
straight  unfaltering  regard  he  looked  down  upon  the  up- 
turned wondering  faces,  and  his  voice  changed  to  a  softer 
and  sadder  tone. 

"  And  now," — he  said — "  now,  in  conclusion,  I  venture 
to  address  you  more  personally  than  generally, — not  as  your 
Yicar  only,  but  as  your  friend  and  neighbor,  who  is  or- 
dained to  work  with  you,  suffer  with  you,  and  if  it  so  please 
God,  to  live  and  die  with  you.  It  is  possible  that,  so  far, 
my  administration  of  this  parish  has  been  something  of  a 


HOLY    ORDERS  291' 

failure, — I  am  quite  sure  I  have  made  many  mistakes, — 
and  some  of  you  I  may  have  offended,  while  others  I  may  not 
have  understood ;  but  before  you  go  out  of  church  this  morn- 
ing, I  will  ask  you  to  believe  that  whatever  I  have  done  has 
been  done  out  of  honest  love  and  care  for  you,  and  because 
I  thought  my  duty  lay  in  doing  it.  What  I  have  left  un- 
done is  through  some  fault  in  myself  which  is  not  intentional 
and  which  I  shall  strive  to  amend — for  I  want," — he  paused 
again — then  went  on  bravely — "  I  want  you  to  trust  me! 
I  want  you  to  understand  that  there  is  no  selfish,  narrow,  or 
puritanical  motive  in  my  heart  when  I  try  to  keep  down  the 
besetting  evil  of  this  place — the  accursed  Drink.  I  have 
nothing  to  gain  by  it.  On  the  contrary,  I  have  much  to 
lose.  If  I,  from  this  pulpit,  could  tell  you  vice  was  virtue, 
and  that  men  when  they  are  drunk  are  more  to  be  respected 
than  men  when  they  are  sober,  I  should  win  far  more  com- 
mendation from  what  are  called  '  local  authorities '  than  I 
do  when  I  declare  to  you  that  the  health  of  your  bodies 
is  ruined  and  the  safety  of  your  souls  endangered  by  drink, 
and  that  nothing  can  alter  the  fact.  It  is  not  for  me  to 
speak  concerning  the  dark  cloud  of  horror  that  has  swept 
over  this  peaceful-seeming  little  village  within  the  last  three 
weeks, — for  I  am  he  on  whom  the  storm  has  broken,  and  I 
must  bear  it  all  alone.  But  one  thing  I  very  earnestly  de- 
sire to  say,  and  it  is,  that  I  fasten  no  blame  on  the  memory 
of  the  evil-doer  of  the  deed  that  has  left  me  desolate, — for 
he  never  was  and  never  could  be  considered  as  fully  respon- 
sible for  his  actions.  One  might  as  well  blame  a  wild  beast 
for  ravaging  the  forest  to  seek  what  it  could  devour.  A 
man,  drugged  by  poison,  which  the  laws  of  the  realm  most 
wickedly  allow  to  be  sold  to  him  as  pure  and  wholesome 
liquor,  cannot  be  held  as  personally  guilty  of  any  crime, — 
and  therefore,  I  have  only  to  say  that  even  as  God  has  pun- 
ished the  unhappy  sinner,  so  may  God  forgive  him !  And  so 
may  God  equally  forgive  all  sinners  who  are  led  astray 
by  sinners  worse  than  themselves!  For  herein  is  our  most 
terrible  responsibility  in  this  world, — it  lies  not  so  much  in 
the  wrong  that  we  ourselves  do,  but  the  wrong  we  make 
others  do.  If  I  commit  a  sin  I  must  learn  the  enormity  of 
my  own  wickedness,  and  abide  by  my  own  punishment;  but 
if  I  drag  others  into  my  sin,  then  my  sinning  is  a  hundred- 


292  HOLY     ORDERS 

fold  augmented,  because  I  force  or  persuade  others  into  a 
punishment  which  I  alone  should  have  received.  I  am  not 
seeking  to  draw  any  personal  inference  from  this,  or  to  drive 
the  point  too  closely  home.  What  I  wish  you  to  feel  and  to 
know  is,  that  I  humbly  and  devoutly  wish  to  be  your  friend 
in  all  things — in  matters  small  as  well  as  great, — that  I 
desire  to  sink  myself  and  the  particular  misery  of  my  own 
life  entirely  out  of  sight,  and  so  comport  myself  among  you 
that  you  may  have  no  cause  to  reproach  my  ministry.  I  tell 
my  men  parishioners  here  plainly  that,  if,  in  spite  of  all  they 
know,  and  all  they  must  surely  realize  respecting  the  evils  of 
drink,  they  still  choose  to  help  make  large  fortunes  for  those 
who  brew  and  distill  poison  for  their  undoing,  I  shall  not 
'reprove  or  attempt  to  control  them.  I  shall  merely  try  to 
help  them  when  they  are  in  sickness  and  trouble.  For  this 
is  a  '  free '  country, — and  no  amount  of  legislation  will  alter 
the  mind  of  the  free-willed  man  who  chooses  Drink  as  his 
career.  I  tell  the  women  that  if  it  is  their  pleasure  to  see 
their  homes  laid  waste,  and  their  young  children  brought  up 
to  believe  that  the  chief  object  of  existence  is  to  drink  away 
every  penny  that  husbands  and  fathers  earn,  I  shall  remain 
passive,  though  sorrowful,  and  do  no  more  than  offer  con- 
solation when  it  is  needed.  In  brief,  I  shall  not  '  interfere ' 
with  you, — save  to  rescue  and  comfort  when  I  can.  But  I 
shall  pray." 

Here  he  waited  a  moment,  gathering  all  his  strength  to- 
gether for  his  concluding  words — 

"  I  shall  pray  God  daily  and  nightly  that  He  may  see 
fit  in  His  wonder-working  wisdom  to  remove  the  temptations 
to  sin  that  abound  in  this .  neighborhood,  and  that  He  will 
give  you — you  yourselves, — the  sound  sense  and  perception 
to  understand  and  to  know  the  measure  of  the  physical  and 
moral  disaster  which  the  national  scourge  of  Drink  brings 
on  you  and  on  your  children, — ay,  even  on  those  unborn ! — 
and  if  I  personally  am  afflicted, — if  I  personally  am  struck 
at  and  my  life's  joy  swept  away  in  one  day  through  the 
working  and  result  of  this  very  curse  among  you,  I  claim 
from  Almighty  Justice  no  vengeance  for  my  grief  and  deso- 
lation, except  to  see  you,  my  little  flock,  saved ! " 

And  in  the  passion  of  the  moment  he  stretched  out  his 
'hands  with  an  eloquent  gesture  as  though  he  would  have 


HOLY     ORDERS  293 

gathered  the  whole  congregation  into  some  heavenly  haven 
of  shelter  and  peace. 

"  For  you  only  I  will  ask — that  God  may  give  you  to 
me!  That  God  may  show  me  how  to  make  you  happy  in 
your  labors  and  your  lives, — that  He  may  help  me  to  teach 
your  children  the  sweet  unspeakable  content  that  is  found 
in  clean,  simple  and  temperate  ways, — and  that  the  tears 
I  have  shed,  and  the  despair  I  have  known,  may  be  acceptable 
to  Him  as  a  poor  sacrifice  of  love  on  my  part,  so  that  if  He 
sees  it  good  and  fitting,  you  may  receive  more  comfort  from 
me,  left  comfortless.  For  I  am  now  detached  from  all  desire 
in  this  world  for  myself; — I  have  finished  with  hope, — I 
have  done  with  delight;  what  strength  I  have, — what  brain 
I  have,  what  heart  I  have — all  are  yours! — and  my  sole  ef- 
fort from  henceforth  must  be  and  shall  be,  to  help  you,  if 
I  may,  no  matter  how  feebly  and  inadequately,  a  little 
further  on  the  road  towards  Heaven !  If  you  will  not  come 
with  me,  I  cannot  force  you, — my  only  persuasion  must  be 
through  '  the  love  of  Christ  which  constraineth  us.'  Give 
me  your  prayers,  my  friends,  that  I  may  not  fail !  Give  me 
your  trust !  " 

He  ceased.  His  hands  were  still  extended  above  the  peo- 
ple, while  they,  gazing  up  at  him  in  mingled  wonder  and 
awe,  saw  his  face  so  transfigured  by  the  light  of  his  soul's 
inspiration,  that  it  seemed  to  have  gained  an  almost  super- 
natural beauty.  Then, — as  he,  with  a  gentle  solemnity, 
pronounced  the  benediction,  they  sank  low  on  their  knees, 
and  for  several  minutes  remained  absorbed  in  prayer,  many 
of  them  weeping  audibly. 

When  at  last  they  rose  to  disperse,  they  did  so  in  a  strange, 
unusual  silence, — men  walked  out  with  carefully  hushed 
steps,  and  women  moved  softly,  making  no  secret  of  their 
tears  as  they  filed  slowly  past  the  freshly-laid  turf  that  cov- 
ered Azalea's  small  grave,  where  many  wreaths  and  posies, 
newly  gathered  by  the  children  of  the  village,  lay  in  lovely 
profusion.  Strangers  paused  in  the  churchyard,  anxious  to 
see  the  Vicar  as  he  came  out,  but  their  curiosity  was  not 
gratified,  as  he  had  a  private  way  of  his  own  from  the  vestry 
to  the  Vicarage  through  the  back  of  his  garden,  and  of  that 
he  availed  himself.  Squire  Hazlitt,  who,  in  the  usual  '  Ri- 
viera season '  absence  of  his  wife  and  family,  had  made  a 


294  HOLY     ORDERS 

point  of  coming  back  from  Paris  to  attend  the  first  service 
taken  by  Everton  since  his  terrible  bereavement,  stood  in 
the  church  porch  waiting  for  his  carriage,  and  made  no  at- 
tempt to  disguise  the  fact  that  he  was  blowing  his  nose 
and  wiping  his  eyes  vigorously, — for,  as  he  afterwards  ex- 
pressed it,  he  had  been  quite  '  bowled  over '  by  the  pathos 
and  simplicity  of  the  Vicar's  appeal  to  his  parishioners. 
To  him,  one  of  the  wandering  tourists,  a  young  man  of 
rather  refined  appearance,  ventured  to  address  the  remark — 

"You  have  a  wonderful  preacher  in  this  out-of-the-way 
place,  sir !  " 

The  Squire  looked  at  him  chillingly,  without  reply. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon !  "  and  the  young  man  colored  a  little 
as  he  realized  that  this  county  magnate  evidently  consid- 
ered he  was  taking  a  liberty  in  addressing  him — "  But — I 
am  reporting  this  sermon  for  the  press, — and  I  thought  you 
might  possibly  be  interested you  are  Mr.  Hazlitt?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  Then  as  the  patron  of  the  living,  you  must  naturally 
feel  proud  of  the  present  Vicar?  Of  course,  what  he  has 
said  to-day  is  bound  to  make  him  famous." 

"  Indeed ! "  And  the  Squire  looked  grimly  dubious.. 
"  What  use  will  that  be  to  him  ?  " 

The  journalist  smiled  deprecatingly. 

"  Surely  fame  is  often  useful  ?    Especially  to  a  preacher ! >r 

"  You  may  think  so — I  don't!  "  Here  the  Squire  drove 
his  walking-stick  into  the  ground  by  way  of  pointing  an 
emphasis  to  his  words — "  Fame  isn't  understood  as  fame 
in  these  days.  If  the  world  makes  much  of  a  man  because 
he's  clever,  you  journalists  are  the  first  to  run  him  down 
and  say  he's  '  advertising  himself.'  The  managers  of  mod- 
ern journalism  always  suspect  some  unworthy  motive  behind 
the  work  of  every  good  intellect.  They'd  have  called  Christ 
Himself  a  '  self-advertiser,'  if  He  had  appeared  in  this  cen- 
tury. Richard  Everton  was  always  a  fine  preacher,  but  it 
has  taken  no  less  than  the  murder  of  his  wife  for  a  discern- 
ing press  to  find  it  out!  " 

With  that  the  old  gentleman  got  into  his  carriage  which 
had  just  come  up,  and  drove  away. 

The  journalist  was  a  trifle  taken  aback.  He  looked  around 
and  saw  that  three  or  four  men  of  the  farmer  type  had 
been  lingering  near  and  had  heard  the  conversation. 


HOLY    ORDERS  295 

"  Rather  a  plain-speaking  old  chap,  your  Squire!  "  he  said 
carelessly.  One  of  the  men  gave  a  slow  smile. 

"  We'se  all  plain-speakin'  on  the  Cotswolds," — he  replied 
— "  An'  Squire  ain't  nowt  ahint  us.  Be  ye  goin'  to  put 
parson's  sermon  i'  the  papers,  mister?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Then  the  whole  world'll  see  it,  I  s'pose?  " 

"  Well !  "  and  the  young  press  man  smiled  condescend- 
ingly, "  Perhaps  not  the  whole  world,  but  a  very  great  por- 
tion of  it.  Our  circulation  is  six  times  as  large  as  that  of 
any  other  daily  paper." 

At  this  all  the  men  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"  That's  right !  Keep  up  the  advertisement !  You  earn 
your  money  while  you  may,  mister !  Go  it  strong !  " 

And  with  another  guffaw  of  laughter  they  strolled  off. 
For  a  moment  disconcerted,  the  journalist  looked  puzzled 
and  half  angry, — then  he  laughed  too. 

"  Evidently  these  chaps  don't  believe  in  advertised  sales," 
— he  said — "  I  wonder  if  they  at  all  represent  the  general 
feeling  of  the  rustic  population  ?  " 

He  went  on  his  way  considering  whether  he  should  make 
an  attempt  to  see  the  Vicar  personally,  and  get  from  him  a 
few  notes  of  what  he  had  said  that  morning,  in  order  to  com- 
pare them  with  his  own  shorthand  memoranda, — but  a  cer- 
tain latent  sense  of  good  feeling  held  him  back  from  this 
intention,  as  well  as  the  more  practical  idea,  which  was 
well-nigh  a  certainty,  that  if  he  did  succeed  in  obtaining  an 
interview,  Everton  would  probably  forbid  any  publication  of 
his  sermon  at  all.  And  this  would  completely  frustrate  his 
hopes,  for  he  had  been  commissioned  by  his  editor-in-chief 
to  use  extra  special  care  in  getting  a  good  report,  as  Mrs. 
Nordstein,  wife  of  one  of  the  several  Jew  shareholders  in 
his  newspaper,  had  expressed  herself  as  curious  to  know 
what  the  Vicar  of  Shadbrook  had  to  say  to  his  parishioners 
after  the  terrible  tragedy  that  had  made  havoc  of  his  hap- 
piness, and  it  was  understood  that  if  he  repeated  the  proceed- 
ings faithfully,  it  would  be  to  his  advantage.  Indeed,  he 
was  himself  aware  of  that — for  Mrs.  Nordstein  ruled  the 
whole  business  of  the  office,  socially  and  morally, — what  she 
wished  was  done, — what  she  objected  to  was  not  done. 
The  dream  of  the  young  journalist  was  to  get  an  invitation 
to  one  of  Mrs.  Nordstein's  'At  Homes/  where  he  might 


296  HOLY     ORDERS 

gaze  critically  and  unreproved  upon  the  charms  of  '  the 
most  beautiful  woman  of  her  day,'  as  she  was  always  care- 
fully styled  by  the  special  newspaper  on  which  he  earned 
a  precarious  living.  What  interest  she  had  in  Shadbrook 
or  its  Vicar  he  could  not  imagine,  nor  did  he  trouble  to  in- 
quire,— it  was  enough  for  him  to  know  that  if  her  expressed 
wishes  were  satisfactorily  carried  out,  it  was  possible  that 
he  might  stand  in  better  favor  with  his  editor. 

The  rest  of  that  Sunday  passed  quietly  away,  unmarked 
save  for  one  unusual  incident,  which  was,  that  though  both 
public-houses  in  Shadbrook  were  opened  after  church  time 
they  had  no  customers.  The  village  appeared  to  have  retired 
within  itself  and  closed  its  doors  against  all  intruders.  The 
sunlight  lay  in  broad  warm  patches  over  the  hill  and  fields, 
— there  was  a  joyous  singing  of  birds  everywhere,  and  no 
discordant  sounds  or  sights  marred  the  peaceful  beauty  of 
the  day.  There  was  an  afternoon  service  at  the  church,  but 
Everton  entrusted  this  and  the  duties  of  the  Sunday  school 
to  his  temporary  assistant,  the  mild  young  curate  before 
mentioned,  for  he  found  himself  more  overwrought  than 
he  had  imagined  would  be  possible  after  his  effort  of  the 
morning.  He  was  also  a  little  troubled  in  his  own  mind, 
questioning  whether  after  all  he  had  done  well  in  making  a 
direct  appeal  to  his  congregation.  It  is  dangerous  to  be 
too  honest  and  straightforward  in  this  world.  If  you  go 
straight  to  a  given  point,  you  are  sure  to  brush  up  against 
people  making  for  the  same  place  round  sly  corners,  and  if 
you  chance  to  knock  down  these  '  dodgers '  they  never  for- 
give you.  Yet  in  his  innermost  conscience,  Everton  did  not 
actually  regret  having  spoken  as  his  heart  had  dictated. 
It  might  be  a  mistake,  or  it  might  not,  from  a  conventional 
point  of  view, — but  then,  what  he  sought  most  to  fight 
against  was  this  very  '  conventionalism,'  which  takes  all 
the  warmth  of  humanity  out  of  religion  and  makes  it  a 
mere  dead  formula.  He  had  resolved  to  combat  it  in  every 
possible  way, — and  he  had  made  a  beginning.  Think  as 
he  would,  argue  with  himself  as  he  would,  there  was  some- 
thing within  his  soul  that  burned  like  a  consuming  fire — 
something  that  clamored  for  utterance  and  that  would  be 
bound  to  utter  itself  before  long,  even  if  he  died  for  it! 

"  I  cannot," — he  half  whispered  to  the  silence — "  I  can- 


HOLY    ORDERS  297 

not  look  on  at  the  growing  apathy  and  atheism  of  the  world 
and  offer  no  protest!  I  must  declare  the  message  of  Christ 
anew,  even  if  the  people  of  this  generation  have  come  to  think 
it  such  an  old,  old  message  that  they  are  tired  of  hearing  it. 
For  if  I  do  not  speak  as  I  feel  I  am  commanded  to  speak,  I 
am  but  a  trader  in  the  Gospel,  not  a  minister  of  its  truth." 

This  expression  '  trader  in  the  Gospel '  which  had  leaped 
involuntarily  into  his  brain,  gave  him  a  moment's  pause. 
Was  it  not  all  a  question  of  '  trade '  ?  The  Pope  and  his 
myrmidons, — was  not  the  keeping  up  of  all  the  magnificent 
ritual  of  Rome  more  a  matter  of  money  than  anything  else? 
And  the  Church  of  England?  Did  not  every  ambitious 
clergyman  hope  for  a  '  rich  '  living  ? — for  a  '  comfortable  ' 
settlement  in  material  rather  than  spiritual  things?  And 
were  methods  of  work  which  involved  personal  considera- 
tions of  convenience  and  well-being,  the  methods  enjoined  by 
Christ?  On  the  contrary,  they  were  directly  opposed  to 
His  teaching. 

"  We  are  all  on  the  wrong  road,"  he  thought  sorrowfully 
— "  And  the  difficulty  before  us  is  to  struggle  back  through 
the  labyrinth  we  have  ourselves  made,  to  the  right  one. 
There  must  be  bolder,  more  direct  and  fearless  teaching;  our 
human  '  theologies '  are  misleading  clouds  which  veil  the 
face  of  Christ!" 

Next  day  Sebastien  Douay  came  to  see  him. 

"  I  could  not  wait  for  you  any  longer," — said  the  little 
priest,  pressing  his  hand  warmly — "  You  told  me  you  would 
come  to  me  when  you  were  conquered,  or  had  conquered. 
Well! — the  fight  is  over — you  are  the  victor!  I  give  you 
the  laurel!  But  you  have  trampled  me  in  the  battle,  my 
friend! — no  matter!  " 

"Trampled  you1?"  echoed  Everton,  amazed — "Why, 
what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Do  you  not  see?  Where  is  my  mission  Catholique? 
Where  do  I  make  my  converts?  What  converts  are  there 
to  make?  There  are  two  or  three — but  there  will  be  no 
more, — not  if  you  go  on  preaching  as  you  preached  yester- 
day !  You  will  draw  all  the  people — all !  "  He  laughed  a 
little — then  sighed.  "Ah  well!  I  will  report  progress  to 
my  superiors!  I  will  tell  them  there  is  a  real  preacher  here 
in  the  Cotswold  district — a  real  one — not  a  sham!  And  so 


298  HOLY     ORDERS 

long  as  he  speaks  of  Christ  there  will  be  no  chance  for  St. 
Peter!" 

"  But,  my  dear  good  friend,"  said  Everton,  touched  and 
perplexed  by  his  whimsically  plaintive  manner — "  What 
difference  can  it  make  to  you  ?  I  said  nothing  in  my  sermon 
yesterday  that  could  appeal  to  any  person  outside  Shad- 
brook."  " 

"  Outside  Shadbrook  there  are  several  wider  Shadbrooks!  " 
and  Douay  gave  an  expressive  gesture — "  But  it  is  possible 
you  have  not  seen  the  morning's  papers  ?  " 

"  The  morning's  papers  ?    No." 

"  Ah !  That  explains  it !  And  whether  you  will  care  for 
it  or  not  is  a  question,  but  your  sermon  is  printed  in  them 
all, — and  you  are,  for  the  time  being,  famous !  Yes,  my  poor 
dear  friend! — you  are  no  longer  the  obscure  scholar,  peace- 
fully preaching  to  a  handful  of  villagers — your  voice  is 
ringing  through  the  world !  " 

"  But  how  ?  " — and  the  Vicar  looked  as  he  felt,  pained 
and  bewildered — "  God  knows  I  have  had  enough  of  jour- 
nalism!— and  yesterday  I  spoke  to  no  one 1  gave  no 

report " 

"  What  you  do  not  give  the  reporters  take," — said  Douay 
— "  and  however  it  has  happened,  it  is  done !  You  are  an 
acknowledged  personage!  And  Shadbrook  is  proud!  Shad- 
brook  is  reading  all  its  halfpenny  dailies  this  morning,  and 
to  see  its  Vicar  named  as  a  great  and  rising  man,  makes  it 
feel  great  and  rising  itself.  But  for  me — alas!  My  poor 
little  tin  chapelle  will  be  empty!  One  honest  Christian 
minister  is  so  rare  that  he  is  enough  to  command  a  large 
district!  Two  are  not  needed!  You  see  now,  my  friend, 
where  your  great  Church  of  England  stands  or  falls?  On 
its  ordained  ministers!  If  every  preacher  belonging  to  the 
country's  national  faith  spoke  to  the  people  as  you  have 
spoken,  from  his  heart, — or  let  us  say,  if  every  preacher  had 
a  heart  to  speak  from,  there  would  be  no  weakening,  but 
rather  strengthening, — and  the  Holy  Father  would  lose 
all  his  English  revenues!  It  is  only  the  lukewarmness  and 
laxity  of  your  Church's  own  conduct  that  opens  the  door  to 
Rome!" 


AFTER  his  sudden,  almost  involuntary  outpouring  of  un- 
/A  premediated  eloquence,  which,  addressed  only  to  the 
parishioners  of  Shadbrook,  had  reached  so  wide  an  audience 
that  it  had  in  very  truth  made  him  famous,  Richard  Everton 
found  himself  snatched  up,  as  it  were,  by  masterful  hands 
invisible  and  plunged  into  a  vortex  of  work.  The  days 
rushed  by  as  they  had  never  rushed  before, — for  domestic 
happiness  accompanied  by  monotonous  tranquillity,  is  apt 
to  make  time  drag  the  pace  with  lame  and  leaden  feet. 
Nothing  is  so  slow  as  the  complete  equanimity  of  persons 
and  surroundings, — it  is  the  existence  of  the  carefully  cul- 
tured vegetable  untroubled  by  so  much  as  a  slug.  When  life 
is  hurled  into  battle,  confronted  by  enemies,  tossed  and 
driven  between  the  rival  forces  of  heaven  and  hell,  then  only 
is  it  life  indeed, — then  only  do  the  formerly  lagging  hours 
take  to  themselves  light  wings  as  on  the  heels  of  Mercury, 
and  fly  with  a  rushing  speed  and  a  flame  of  glorious  vitality 
that  knows  no  pause  and  no  fatigue.  Everton,  living  through 
the  daily  routine  of  a  quiet  country  cleric,  devoted  to  his 
wife  and  child,  and  seeing  very  little  for  himself  beyond 
the  enchanted  circle  of  his  own  home  made  radiant  by  the 
pretty  Azalea's  gayety  and  charm,  had  never  thoroughly 
realized  that  his  very  happiness  was  narrowing  his  outlook 
and  cramping  his  energies,  though  he  was  vaguely  conscious 
that  something  was  lacking  to  his  full  ability,  but  what  it 
was  he  had  never  entirely  determined.  Now  that  the  twin 
furies  of  Death  and  Despair  had  stormed  his  paradise, 
they  had  left  its  gates  open, — and  the  world  rushed  in, — 
the  tired,  doubting,  suffering,  angry  world,  full  of  its  own 
sorrows,  its  own  disappointments,  its  own  ambitions, — a 
world  that  cried  to  him: — "You,  O  man,  who  continue  to 
preach  of  faith  and  hope  in  the  midst  of  desolation  and  an- 
guish, give  me  some  of  the  comfort  you  give  to  yourself !  Lo, 
I,  too,  am  drunken  and  despairing  and  murderous! — I,  too, 
have  loved  and  lost, — I,  too,  have  laid  my  beloved  ones  in 

299 


300  HOLY     ORDERS 

the  worm-infested  earth, — I,  too,  have  blasphemed  God  and 
shrieked  at  Him :  '  Where  art  Thou !  '  Tell  me  why  I 
should  not  weep — why  I  should  not  rage  and  complain! — 
teach  me,  if  you  can,  why  I  should  be  patient, — why  I  must 
endure  unto  the  end  that  I  may  be  saved!  If  you  are  not 
liar,  humbug,  pharisee,  hypocrite,  as  so  many  of  my  teachers 
and  preachers  have  been,  and  are,  help  me  as  you  help  your- 
self, for  I  need  all  the  help  that  you  can  give !  " 

And  he,  the  newly-aroused  soul  bent  on  the  serving  of 
Christ,  heard  and  answered.  There  was  no  moment  of 
time  lost  with  him.  Sunday  after  Sunday  his  little  church 
was  crowded, — Sunday  after  Sunday  the  '  fiery  tongues ' 
that  descended  at  the  first  Pentecost,  seemed  alike  to  de- 
scend upon  him,  for  he  uttered  such  fearless,  passionate, 
straight  truths  concerning  the  heresies  and  growing  wicked- 
ness of  the  present  so-called  '  civilization  '  which  he  prophe- 
sied was  rapidly  drawing  to  its  climax  and  fall,  and  con- 
veyed them  to  his  hearers  in  words  and  sentences  of  such 
rich  and  powerful  eloquence,  that  they  clung  to  the  memory 
and  sank  deep  into  the  mind.  All  through  that  summer, 
hundreds  had  to  be  turned  away  from  the  church  because 
there  was  not  even  standing  room.  Extra  services  were  held, 
and  once  every  fortnight  Everton  preached  what  he  called 
a  '  secular  sermon  '  in  the  school-room,  which  proved  to  be 
such  an  attraction  that  people  gathered  from  far  and  near 
to  hear  him,  and  would  have  gladly  paid  money  for  their 
seats  if  he  would  have  accepted  it,  but  he  would  not.  And 
so,  instead  of  gold  and  silver,  they  brought  by  way  of  tribute 
and  thank-offering,  the  loveliest  flowers  to  lay  on  his  mur- 
dered wife's  grave,  which  was  now  marked  by  a  plain  white 
marble  cross,  laid  recumbent  on  the  ground,  though  raised 
just  enough  to  allow  the  sun  to  reflect  and  shape  its  shadow 
on  the  grass.  The  memory  of  Azalea  had  become  hallowed 
by  the  pity  and  remorse  of  the  villagers,  and  they  took  a 
pride  in  making  the  place  where  her  mortal  remains  were 
buried,  look  like  a  beautiful  little  fairy  field  of  blossom. 
The  Vicar  noted  their  care  and  tenderness,  but  said  nothing, 
not  even  in  thanks.  He  felt  it  sorely  that  they  had  misun- 
derstood the  poor  little  woman  when  she  was  alive, — this 
strewing  of  roses  and  lilies  on  her  grave  was  the  expression 
of  a  regret  that  came  too  late. 


HOLY    ORDERS  301 

Twelve  months  flew  by  with  unprecedented  rapidity  so 
far  as  Everton  himself  was  concerned,  and  the  changes 
wrought  in  Shadbrook  during  that  space  of  time  were  almost 
as  amazing  as  the  swiftly  spreading  fame  of  his  preaching. 
For  one  thing,  Minchin's  Brewery  had  received  its  death- 
blow. By  twos  and  threes  the  shareholders  withdrew  them- 
selves and  their  cash  from  the  concern, — labor  could  only 
be  obtained  intermittently,  and  never  for  long  periods,  as 
the  rumor  that  the  '  yard  '  was  haunted  had,  like  all  such 
rumors,  become  so  emphasized  by  constant  repetition  that 
it  was  now  generally  accepted  as  a  fact.  The  horrible  ghost 
of  Dan  Kiernan,  mangled  and  bleeding,  had  been  seen  wan- 
dering among  the  piled-up  beer-casks,  and  bending  over  the 
vats, — at  least  so  the  different  '  hands,'  casually  employed 
from  different  neighborhoods,  were  ready  to  say  and  to 
swear,  both  in  and  out  of  their  '  cups.'  And  from  the 
Brewery  the  '  phantom  '  flavor  seemed  to  have  reached  the 
beer, — for  orders  grew  less  and  less,  and  even  Mr.  Topper 
of  the  '  Stag  and  Crow '  public-house  one  day  declared  in  a 
burst  of  confidence  that  '  Minchin's  Fourpenny '  wasn't 
what  it  used  to  be. 

"  The  fact  is,  I  can't  sell  it,"— he  said—"  And  I've  told 
Minchin  so.  Something's  got  to  be  done,  or  we'll  have  to 
shut  up  shop.  Custom's  falling  off  cruel  1  " 

This  was  a  fact.  The  Shadbrook  working-men,  farm- 
hands and  agricultural  laborers  alike,  had  begun  to  fight 
shy  of  their  '  publics.'  Some  of  them  kept  up  the  habit  ef 
taking  a  daily  glass  at  one  or  other  of  the  convenient  bars — 
but  it  was  only  a  glass  and  not,  as  formerly,  several  glasses. 
The  offer  of  so  much  '  free  beer '  in  the  twenty-four  hours 
tempted  no  one  to  work  at  the  Brewery, — and  when  the 
Vicar  one  day  quietly  announced  the  opening  of  a  sniall 
gymnasium  and  billiard-room  in  the  village,  which  with  the 
ready  assistance  of  Squire  Hazlitt  he  had  managed  to  make 
out  of  two  dismantled  but  picturesque  old  cottages  turned 
into  one  building,  the  young  men  gladly  flocked  there  of 
an  evening  and  gave  themselves  up  to  wholesome  sports  and 
exercises,  and  were  well  content  with  the  excellent  coffee 
and  mild  tobacco  provided  for  their  refreshment  during  the 
games.  Here  would  come  old  '  Mortar '  Pike  in  his  wheeled 
chair,  to  witness  the  exhibition  of  such  feats  of  strength  as 


302  HOLY     ORDERS 

he  had  once  been  famous  for,  and  in  his  feeble,  wheezy 
voice  he  would  comment  upon  and  criticise  the  falling- 
off  of  ability  and  suppleness  among  the  youth  of  the  pres- 
ent day. 

"  Lord,  Lord !  "  he  would  pipe,  querulously — "  To  see  me 
give  a  turn  at  wrestlin'  would  a'  done  yer  'art  good ! — there 
worn't  no  faddy  nonsense  about  me — /  worn't  afeard  o'  my 
own  fist,  no,  nor  nobuddy  else's  fist  nayther!  But  you  lads 
is  all  like  cheepin'  chickabiddies  creepin'  out  of  a  shell! — 
you'll  never  make  such  men  as  used  to  be  on  the  Cotswolds 
— no,  nor  you'll  never  see  a  man  like  me  no  more! — for  the 
Lord'll  be  pleased  to  keep  me  'bove  ground  till  I'm  a  'underd 
— ay!  and  past,  mebbe! — an*  there  ain't  one  among  ye  as'll 
get  to  that  last  mile-post — mark  my  wurrd !  " 

Then  the  lads  of  the  village  would  laugh  and  humor  him, 
and  persuade  him  to  tell  them  stories  of  the  '  long,  long  ago,' 
which  he  was  very  willing  to  do,  being  childishly  gratified  to 
have  such  an  audience  ready  to  listen  to  him.  And  the  even- 
ings would  sometimes  finish  up  with  part-singing,  for  many 
of  the  young  fellows  had  good  voices  and  a  taste  for  music, 
— so  that  the  time  passed  in  so  much  pleasant  sociability  and 
entertainment  that  not  one  of  the  men  who  were  thus  harm- 
lessly enjoying  themselves  thought  of  the  public-house,  or 
manifested  the  least  desire  to  go  thither.  Naturally  these 
friendly  gatherings  of  the  able  bodied  male  population  of 
Shadbrook  for  '  sports  and  exercises '  were  an  opposing  in- 
fluence to  the  sale  of  Minchin's  liquors  in  the  village,  and 
in  a  way  helped  to  give  the  toppling  brewery  an  extra  roll 
downhill.  Nevertheless,  though  the  business  Was  daily  and 
hourly  becoming  more  insecure,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Minchin 
presented  an  unmoved,  not  to  say  arrogant  front  to  the 
world,  almost  as  if  every  one  did  not  know  that  their  '  Com- 
pany '  paid  no  dividends.  They  had  reduced  their  expenses 
considerably,  had  sold  their  horses,  and  went  on  foot  instead 
of  in  carriages, — while  their  meanness  to  their  domestics 
and  tradespeople  had  from  casual  murmurings  passed  into  a 
local  proverb.  "  Don't  Minchin  it "  had  become  the  ordi- 
nary phrase  used  on  market-days  between  buyers  and  sellers, 
when  the  former  were  inclined  to  drive  too  close  and  hard  a 
bargain,  and  '  as  mean  as  Minchin '  expressed  the  last  pos- 
sible qualification  of  stinginess,  and  bade  fair  to  remain  in 


HOLY    ORDERS  303 

the  language  as  one  of  those  proverbial  'colloquialisms* 
which  occasionally  crop  up  to  perplex  the  antiquarian.  The 
feud  between  themselves  and  the  Vicar  of  Shadbrook  was 
far  more  bitter  now,  than  when  poor,  pretty  little  Azalea. 
had  been  alive  to  infuriate  the  spiteful  Mrs.  Minchin  by  her 
bright  charm  of  face  and  figure,  and  her  superior  taste  in 
dress, — but  they  had  to  chew  the  unsavory  cud  of  envy  and 
hatred  in  secret,  inasmuch  as  from  end  to  end  of  the  whole 
neighborhood  Everton  had  secured  the  position  of  a  ruling 
power.  Every  one  came  to  seek  his  advice,  or  profit  by  his 
counsel, — and  he  who  had  imagined  that  with  the  death  of 
the  one  woman  he  had  loved  his  life  would  have  been  empty 
and  desolate,  with  a  desolation  as  horrible  as  that  of  a  lonely 
hell,  found  it  filled  in  full  measure,  overflowing  and  running 
over  with  so  many  new  labors  and  interests  that  he  had  no 
time  to  think  of  himself  or  his  sorrow  at  all. 

And  with  these  new  labors  and  interests  a  strange  new 
passion  sprang  up  in  his  soul, — a  love  for  Azalea  dead,  even 
deeper  than  that  he  had  cherished  for  her  when  living.  All 
the  small  weaknesses,  frivolities  and  inconsistencies  of  her 
nature  had  dropped  from  his  memory  of  her,  and  had  left 
him  to  think  of  her  as  some  grand  sweet  angel,  ever  near  to 
him  to  guide  and  to  console.  So  much  indeed  had  he  sancti- 
fied his  earthly  love  into  a  heavenly  one  that  it  was  as  if 
the  man's  inner  self  had  become  wedded  to  some  spirit  of 
unseen  but  eternal  beauty.  By  day  he  worked  in  the  quiet 
consciousness  that  she,  his  beloved,  worked  with  him, — at 
night  he  felt  her  close  presence  about  him  like  a  warm  en- 
folding radiance, — and  this  persistent  clinging  to  something 
indefinitely  pure  and  sweet  and  everlasting — something 
which  he  could  not  shape  even  in  his  imagination,  but  which, 
nevertheless,  truly  existed  for  him,  made  him  almost  as 
much  of  a  poet  and  dreamer  as  he  was  a  thinker  and  preacher. 
Azalea  herself  had  never  thought  so  far  as  to  consider  the 
possibility  of  keeping  her  husband's  love  after  death,  nor 
had  she  ever  exacted  from  him  any  promises  of  lifelong 
fidelity,  for  among  the  lightly  fluttering  thoughts  that  had 
occasionally  hovered  through  her  little  brain  had  been  the 
uncomfortable  one  that  '  men  were  deceivers  ever/  Had 
she  been  told  that  this  one  man, — her  own  simple,  '  prosy ' 
undemonstrative  '  Dick,'  had  such  a  deep  store  of  romance 


304  HOLY     ORDERS 

in  his  nature  as  to  be  capable  of  sanctifying  his  life  to  her 
memory,  she  would  never  have  believed  it. 

Nevertheless,  so  it  truly  was, — and  as  many  a  monk  in 
olden  days  paid  devotion  to  some  one  particular  saint  who 
was  counted  second  to  the  Almighty  in  the  records  of  his 
mind,  so  Richard  Everton  laid  all  his  endeavors  and  under- 
takings on  the  shrine  of  his  dead  love, — the  wife  and  mother 
who  had  been  so  cruelly  snatched  away  from  him  in  the  very 
blossoming  time  of  her  womanhood.  And  so  unwearying 
was  he  in  well-doing  and  so  swift  was  the  growth  of  his 
influence,  not  only  in  his  own  parish,  but  throughout  the 
whole  neighborhood  and  far  beyond  it,  that  the  days  scudded 
by  like  full-sailed  ships  before  a  fair  wind,  especially  as  he 
had  undertaken  the  whole  business  of  educating  his  little 
son  Laurence,  and  fitting  him  for  entry  into  Winchester 
school.  The  boy  was  remarkably  apt  and  quick  to  learn; 
— moreover  he  showed  a  keen  delight  in  his  studies,  and 
was  never  so  happy  as  when  he  was  '  preparing '  his  lessons. 
Books  were  his  passion, — and  yet  with  all  his  love  of  reading 
and  his  fondness  for  asking  questions  of  a  nature  somewhat 
puzzling  to  his  elders,  he  was  a  thorough  child,  full  of  fun 
and  fond  of  games.  Sometimes  his  father  regretted  that 
there  were  no  children  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  own  class 
and  age  with  whom  he  could  associate,  but  Laurence  himself 
did  not  seem  to  feel  the  lack  of  companions.  He  rather 
liked  being  alone, — he  was  perfectly  healthy  and  happy, 
and  had  all  sorts  of  ways  of  inventing  amusements  which 
suited  his  own  particular  taste  and  turn  of  mind.  Sebastien 
Douay,  always  cheery,  always  kindly,  despite  the  fact  that 
his  '  tin  chapelle '  now  remained,  as  he  had  prophesied,  de- 
plorably empty,  and  that  his  '  mission  Catholique  '  among  the 
benighted  folk  of  the  district  made  no  progress,  did  his  genial 
best  to  become  a  child  himself  in  order  to  entertain  the  little 
fellow; — he  was  always  bringing  him  new  toys,  pictures, 
and  wondrous  modern  '  scientific '  games,  all  of  which  Lau- 
rence gratefully  accepted,  and  considered,  till  he  had  found 
them  out  and  knew  their  composition  by  heart,  when  he  put 
them  away  with  an  ineffable  air  of  quiet  boredom.  He  was 
very  fond  of  Douay,  but  apparently  regarded  him  as  a 
harmless  little  man  who  must  be  humored  rather  than 
honored. 


HOLY    ORDERS  305 

"  I  wish,"  he  said  one  day,  very  gravely, — "  I  wish  you 
would  talk  to  me  about  what  you  know  and  feel  yourself, 
instead  of  trying  to  play  with  me." 

Douay's  round  eyes  opened  surprisedly. 

"Talk  to  you  about  what  I  know  and  feel  myself?"  he 
echoed. 

"  Yes," — and  Laurence  smiled  at  him  encouragingly 

"  Because  you're  a  man,  and  you  can  tell  me  what  it  is 
like  to  be  a  man.  From  all  I  see,  I  should  think  it  must 
be  very  troublesome.  I  would  rather  be  a  little  boy." 

"  Ma  foi !  "  sighed  Douay,  with  a  comical  shrug  of  his 
shoulders — "  So  would  I !  " 

At  this  Laurence  laughed  so  heartily  that  Douay  was 
delighted. 

"  Ah,  that  is  what  I  like  to  hear!  "  he  exclaimed — "You 
should  laugh  often  like  that,  my  child ! — it  is  good  for  you !  " 

"  It's  not  good  for  me  to  laugh  when  there's  nothing  to 
laugh  at," — said  Laurence,  with  a  quaint  upward  look  at 
him — "  I  should  be  like  the  silly  boy  in  the  village  who 
laughed  himself  into  a  fit  the  other  day  because  a  spider 
dropped  on  his  head.  But  it  would  make  any  one  laugh, 
you  know,  to  think  of  you  as  a  little  boy ! " 

"  Would  it?  "  and  '  Father  '  Douay  rubbed  his  nose  medi- 
tatively  "  Laurence,  mon  petit,  how  old  are  you?  " 

"  Six.     Going  on  for  seven,"  replied  Laurence  promptly. 

"  You  are  sure  you  are  not  sixty,  going  on  for  seventy?  " 

and  Douay  put  on  a  catechising  air "  You  have  made  no 

mistake  ?  " 

Laurence  gave  him  a  look  of  quiet  scorn. 

"  You  think  that's  funny," — he  observed — "  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  be  funny." 

Douay  collapsed  after  this,  and  later  on  asked  Everton 
whether  the  boy  ought  not  to  go  to  a  preparatory  school? 

"He's  too  young;  too  little  altogether," — said  Everton 
— "  Besides,  I  can  prepare  him  for  Winchester  myself." 

Douay  spread  out  his  hands  resignedly. 

"You  must  do  with  your  own  child  as  you  please,  my 
friend!  But  take  care!  He  will  be  either  a  misanthrope  or 
a  genius!  " 

Everton  smiled. 

"You  think  that  possible?    A  genius?" 


3o6  HOLY     ORDERS 

^  "  Quite  possible !  But  consider !  What  do  the  modern 
wise  men  say  of  genius?  That  it  is  insanity!  Reflect  upon- 
that,  good  Richard!  All  the  great  thinkers,  musicians,  art- 
ists, poets  and  dreamers  who  have  made  the  world  rich  in 
art  and  thought  were,  and  are,  madmen  and  madwomen — ac- 
cording to  the  latest  science!  Only  the  Pig-man  is  sane; — 
the  Pig-man  who  grunts  over  his  own  trough  of  hog-wash! 
The  God-man,  ay,  even  our  Blessed  Lord  Himself,  is 
classed  nowadays  among  the  insane!  Would  you  have  your 
son  a  lunatic?  " 

Everton  looked  amused. 

"You  talk  to  entertain  yourself,  my  dear  Douay,"  he 
said  gently, — "  as  you  often  do.  You  know  that  the  con- 
flicting opinions  of  scientists  on  life  and  its  wonders  have 
no  weight  with  me;  nor  do  I  care  for  modern  criticisms  on 
any  form  of  art.  I  would  have  my  boy  follow  the  bent  of 
his  own  best  nature,  and  if  he  should  prove,  as  you  say,  a 
'  genius,'  I  shall  not  complain.  There  are  very  few  of  the 
type!" 

That  afternoon  he  received  a  letter  from  a  certain  Bishop 
more  noted  for  social  amenities  than  religious  discipline,  in- 
viting him  to  preach  in  one  of  the  largest  and  most  fashion- 
able churches  of  the  West  End  of  London,  on  behalf  of  a 
great  scheme  of  charity  which  was  being  organized  by  such 
among  the  '  Upper  Ten '  as  were  really  sincerely  disposed 
to  do  good,  and  including,  of  course,  those  who  sought  or 
needed  a  special  advertisement  through  alms-giving.  It  was 
a  '  noble  cause,'  wrote  the  Bishop, — and  he  was  certain 
from  what  he  had  heard  and  read  of  Mr.  Everton's  preach- 
ing, that  no  one  could  be  found  to  plead  it  with  more  elo- 
quence. Would  he  come  Sunday  fortnight?  He,  the  Bishop, 
would  arrange  that  one  at  least  of  the  numerous  lesser 
scions  of  Royalty  should  be  present  to  hear  the  sermon. 
Everton  smiled  at  this  with  a  faint  contempt  for  the 
Bishop's  touch  of  snobbishness, — and  he  thought  over  the 
proposal  for  some  hours  before  answering  it.  Finally,  how- 
ever, he  wrote  accepting  it.  Deep  in  his  innermost  soul  there 
lurked  a  strong  desire  to  make  a  trial  of  his  powers  in 
London,  and  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  throw  away  the 
offered  opportunity.  Moreover,  there  happened  to  be  a 
clerical  friend  of  his  own  residing  near  Shadbrook  who  had 


HOLY    ORDERS  307 

often  expressed  a  wish  to  preach  in  Shadbrook  Church, — if 
he  went  to  London  this  would  give  his  friend  the  opportunity 
of  taking  the  service  during  his  absence. 

Things  arranged  themselves  in  the  usual  open-door  fashion 
which  so  often  curiously  attends  a  chain  of  circumstances 
that  are  destined  to  affect  one's  life  providentially  or  ad- 
versely— and  the  intervening  fortnight  sped  on  so  rapidly 
that  almost  before  he  knew  how  it  had  flown,  he  found 
himself  one  Saturday  afternoon  in  the  huge,  sooty  metropolis, 
— the  city  of  cities  which  most  resembles  Babylon  in  its  vast 
wealth,  luxury  and  arrogance,  and  which  is  as  surely  doomed 
as  was  that  ancient  '  lady  of  the  kingdoms '  to  sudden  and 
complete  destruction.  From  the  smudgy  windows  of  the 
reading-room  of  a  quiet  '  private '  hotel  not  far  from  the 
British  Museum,  he  surveyed  the  dingy  street, — the  tall 
ugly  houses,  the  dirty  chimneys,  and  the  tired-looking  people 
that  hurried  past  every  now  and  again,  all  seemingly  bent 
on  some  object  which  must  be  attained  in  desperate  haste, 
or  not  at  all, — their  eyes  strained  in  an  onward  groping  gaze 
of  utter  fatigue  and  hopeless  endurance — an  expression  which 
in  this  twentieth  century  appears  to  have  become  chronic 
with  a  large  majority  of  persons,  so  that  few  countenances 
nowadays  convey  the  idea  of  that  calm  and  serene  content 
which  should  naturally  radiate  from  every  human  being 
who  is  rightly  conscious  of  the  high  privilege  and  responsibil- 
ity of  life.  Edward  Darell,  his  old  college  chum,  whom  he 
had  not  seen  since  the  day  of  his  wife's  funeral,  happening 
by  chance  to  be  in  town,  had  met  him  at  the  station  on  ar- 
rival, afterwards  accompanying  him  to  the  hotel,  and  he  was 
with  him  now,  talking  animatedly,  but  Everton,  depressed 
by  the  gloom  of  London  and  the  heaviness  of  the  air,  had 
allowed  his  thoughts  to  wander  and  scarcely  heard  what  his 
friend  was  saying.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  dreary  out- 
look— the  wilderness  of  building  which  barred  from  view 
all  but  about  a  couple  of  yards'  breadth  of  sky,  and  in  the 
very  midst  of  Darell's  conversation  he  turned  to  him  ab- 
ruptly with  the  inconsequent  remark — 

"  To  think  that  this  horrible  London  should  be  the  sum- 
mit of  man's  civilization!  The  very  apotheosis  of  sheer 
ugliness !  " 

Darell  laughed. 


3o8  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  It's  not  so  ugly  as  New  York," — he  said — "  You  should 
go  there  and  make  comparisons!  But  I  was  not  speaking  to 
you  of  either  London  or  its  ugliness — I  was  saying  how 
proud  I  am  th'at  you  have  at  last  shown  what  mettle  is  in 
you " 

Everton  looked  at  him  in  gentle  inquiry. 

"At  last?"  he  repeated. 

Darell  reddened  a  little,  but  he  was  not  a  man  to  shirk 
small  difficulties,  so  he  answered — 

"  Yes — at  last !  Don't  mistake  me,  Everton.  You  were 
really  too  happy  before, — too  happy  to  help  the  world. 
Your  great  sorrow  has  made  you  a  better  servant  of  the 
Master." 

"  If  you  think  so,  I  am  glad," — said  Everton — "  But  I 
have  done  very  little.  Indeed  I  am  not  able  to  do  much. 
My  work  is  entirely  limited  to  Shadbrook." 

"Ah  no!  You  cannot  say  that  now!"  declared  Darell, 
warmly — "  Every  sermon  you  preach  is  eagerly  reported  and 
copied  in  hundreds  of  journals, — and  indeed  this  should  be 
so.  For  you  do  not  merely  talk  from  the  pulpit — you  give 
love  and  help  from  it — what  wonder  then  that  you  draw  ali 
who  need  love  and  help! — and  how  many  thousands  there 
are  of  these !  " 

Everton  was  silent. 

"  Do  you  know,"  went  on  Darell,  more  lightly — "  I 
really  feared  you  might  perhaps  go  over  to  Rome  ?  You  were 
so  very  intimate  with  that  little  priest  I  saw  down  at  your 
place » 

"  I  am  intimate  with  him  still," — said  Everton,  quietly — 
"  There  is  no  man,  not  even  yourself,  whom  I  honor  more 
than  that  same  little  priest!  But  because  I  honor  a  man  I 
do  not  of  necessity  adopt  his  creed.  My  dear  Darell,  Rome 
would  seem  to  be  your  bugbear, — and  yet  I  understand  that 
you  include  much  of  her  ritual  in  your  own  parish  services. 
Is  that  so  ?  " 

Darell  moved  a  little  uneasily.  He  looked  round  the 
reading-room  to  see  if  there  were  any  listeners  to  the  con- 
versation— but  there  was  only  one  man  sunk  deep  in  the 
recesses  of  an  easy-chair  opposite  the  fire  with  a  newspaper 
over  his  face,  apparently  asleep. 

"  I  do  no  more  than  hundreds  of  other  clergy," — he  an- 


HOLY    ORDERS  309 

swered  hesitatingly — "  Congregations  will  not  attend  a  dull 
service  nowadays." 

"A  'dull'  service!"  echoed  Everton — "What  is  there 
that  can  be  '  dull '  in  the  true  heart-whole  worship  of  God  ? 
Does  it  need  any  tawdry  earth-trappings  to  symbolize  the 
pure  majesty  of  the  Divine?  Is  it  not  rather  an  insult  to 
Deity  to  make  an  over-elaboration  of  the  simplicity  of  prayer, 
or  of  the  direct  uplifting  of  praise?  Surely  we  should  al- 
ways remember  the  words  of  Our  Lord  when  reproaching 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees — '  All  their  works  they  do  to  be 
seen  of  men ;  they  make  broad  their  phylacteries  and  enlarge 
the  borders  of  their  garments.'  Is  not  this  a  warning — nay, 
a  command  against  ornate  ritual?  The  Roman  creed  is  a 
form  of  Christianity  grafted  on  Rome's  former  paganism; 
and  the  relics  of  its  paganism  constitute  its  chief  mischief. 
The  High  Anglican  Church  of  England  does  not  copy 
Rome's  Christianity  but  only  its  paganism,  in  the  way  of 
elaborate  ceremonial,  incense-throwing  and  barbarically 
adorned  vestments,  and  it  is,  therefore,  an  absurd  incongruity 
in  form,  being  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other." 

Darell  looked,  as  he  felt,  a  trifle  uncomfortable. 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you," — he  said  slowly — "  But  we 
need  not  argue  the  point  here  or  now — your  line  of  work 
is  so  different  from  mine " 

Everton  gave  him  a  keen  glance. 

"  How  is  it  different  ?  "  he  asked — "  You  and  I  are  both 
ministers  of  the  same  Church, — we  both  have  the  same  high 
duty  appointed  to  us — to  lift  the  thoughts  of  the  world  be- 
yond death  to  immortality !  " 

"  Yes — and  surely  to  do  that  successfully  one  must  appeal 
to  the  senses," — exclaimed  Darell  warmly — "  One  must 
reach  the  soul  through  all  that  touches  its  inner  consciousness 
of  beauty,  of  picturesqueness,  of  solemnity " 

Everton  raised  his  head  with  a  slight,  imperative  ges- 
ture. 

"  Stop  there,  Darell !  You  will  not  persuade  me  that  a 
poor  biped  perambulating  up  and  down  in  gaudy  vestments 
before  an  equally  guady  altar,  like  an  actor  on  a  stage,  can 
convey  any  impression  of  'solemnity'  to  the  soul — or  that 
any  quantity  of  burning  candles  and  smoking  incense  can 
bring  to  the  mind  thoughts  of  the  Divine  Creator  of  those 


3io  HOLY     ORDERS 

myriad  million  lights  of  the  universe  which  we  call  solar 
systems,  and  which  shall  never  be  extinguished  till  He,  the 
Maker  of  them,  wills  it  so.  On  the  contrary,  the  more  we 
intrude  our  earthly  tawdriness,  our  barbaric  love  of  glitter 
and  display,  and  our  absurd  self-consciousness  into  the  wor- 
ship of  God,  the  more  we  outrage  the  majesty  of  Him  who 
simply  commanded  '  Let  there  be  light — and  there  was 
light.'  You  '  feared '  for  me,  you  say,  because,  having  a 
Roman  Catholic  priest  for  a  friend,  you  judged  me  weak 
enough  to  adopt  a  creed  which  even  he,  though  trained  to 
obedience,  does  not  always  find  all-sufficient?  But,  my  dear 
fellow,  believe  me  I  have  greater  fears  for  you,  lest  you  may 
be  neither  Protestant  nor  Roman  Catholic,  nor  pagan  nor 
Christian,  but  something  else  that  has  no  real  foundation 
in  the  soul !  " 

Darell  turned  pale,  and  his  eyes  flashed  defiantly. 

"  If  you  were  not  Richard  Everton,"  he  said — "  I  would 
not  endure  such  words " 

Everton  smiled  kindly. 

"  But  being  what  I  am,  you  will  put  up  with  them,  Dar- 
ell! "  he  interposed — "  And  think  them  well  over!  " 

Darell  chafed  visibly. 

"  The  church  where  you  are  announced  to  preach  to-mor- 
row is  very  '  High  ' ;  " — he  said — "  So  *  High  '  indeed  that 
it  might  almost  be  Roman  Catholic.  But  it  is  none  the 
worse  for  that." 

"And  none  the  better!"  replied  Everton,  with  perfect 
good-nature — "  But  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  its  ritualistic 
4  toilette ' ;  I  figure  there  merely  as  the  preacher  of  an  oc- 
casion— and  my  business  will  be  simply  to  move  hearts 
powerfully  enough  to  cause  a  kind  of  reflex  action  whereby 
pockets  may  be  moved  also!  Come,  come,  my  dear  Darell, 
don't  let  us  '  gird,'  as  the  Scotch  say,  at  one  another !  The 
quarrels  of  the  clergy  are  the  ruin  of  the  Church.  Each 
man  must  do  as  he  sees  best  in  the  carrying  out  of  his  ministry 
— but  for  me  the  Divine  will  always  be  the  simple, — and  the 
simple  the  Divine." 

They  dropped  into  conventionalities  after  this,  and  very 
soon  Darell  took  his  departure,  leaving  Everton  in  the 
shabby  reading-room  alone  with  the  one  man  who  still  sat 
in  the  arm-chair  by  the  fire  with  a  newspaper  over  his  face. 


HOLY    ORDERS  311 

As  soon  as  Darell  had  gone,  however,  this  personage  stirred, 
and  putting  his  newspaper  down  slowly,  yawned,  stretched 
out  his  arms,  sighed  comfortably,  and  finally  pulled  himself 
upright,  thereby  showing  a  very  open,  pleasant  countenance, 
made  somewhat  fascinating  by  a  pair  of  dark  hazel  eyes  in 
which  there  sparkled  a  fund  of  dormant  humor.  He  shot 
a  friendly  and  inquisitive  glance  in  Everton's  direction, — 
then  in  a  half-drawling  accent  which  was  undoubtedly 
American,  though  so  suave  and  musical  as  to  have  nothing 
of  a  '  twang  '  about  it,  he  said — 

"  I  guess,  sir,  you  know  what's  the  matter  with  the 
Church!  It's  been  sick  a  long  time,  and  there's  such  a 
mighty  lot  of  doctors  feeling  its  pulse  and  looking  at  its 
tongue  that  it's  like  to  die  before  it  gets  a  proper  dose  of 
medicine !  " 

Everton  looked  at  him  a  moment  before  speaking. 

"  It  is  possible  you  may  be  right," — he  then  answered, — 
"  But  I  am,  in  a  certain  sense,  an  optimist — a  disciple  of  the 
Obvious.  That  is  to  say,  I  believe  in  such  old  derided 
maxims  as  '  The  darkest  hour's  before  the  dawn  ' — and  '  It's 
a  long  lane  that  has  no  turning.'  I  think  the  time  is  very 
near  for  a  grand  renewal  of  religious  life — a  time  when 
everything  in  the  world, — its  wealth,  its  commerce,  its  prog- 
ress,— shall  seem  of  less  account  than  the  worth  of  a  na- 
tion's united  prayer.  For  we  are  in  the  '  darkest  hour,' — 
therefore  the  dawn  is  close  at  hand." 

The  stranger  got  out  of  his  chair  and  stood  up  with  his 
back  to  the  fireplace,  showing  himself  to  be  a  man  of  good 
figure  and  stature,  with  an  easy  grace  about  his  whole  man- 
ner that  expressed  long  familiarity  with  the  freedom  of  an 
open-air  life. 

"  Well,"  he  said — "  if  that  be  so  you  may  make  up  your 
mind  that  it  will  be  a  red  dawn — the  reddest  dawn  that 
ever  broke  over  this  world  since  France  sent  her  royal  rulers 
to  the  guillotine  1  France  was  then  just  one  country  with 
the  dry  rot  in  it, — but  to-day  we  have  several  countries  down 
with  the  same  disease,  and  when  they  all  start  trying  to  get 
rid  of  the  trouble  there'll  be  ructions.  I'm  an  American, — 
and  of  course  over  here  there  are  a  good  many  folks  who 
judge  everything  from  America  as  a  fraud  or  a  '  bit  o' 
bunkum,'  except  a  ten-million-dollar  heiress.  Yet,  to  speak 


3i2  HOLY     ORDERS 

quite  honestly  and  meaning  no  offense,  in  comparing  your 
nation  with  mine  I  don't  know  which  is  the  more  rotten  of 
the  two!" 

"Severe!"  commented  Everton,  with  a  smile — "And 
perhaps  not  altogether  just." 

The  stranger  smiled  also,  quite  affably. 

"Perhaps  not!  I'm  willing  to  be  corrected.  But  I'm 
compelled  to  form  my  judgment  on  the  result  of  my  experi- 
ence. Now  see!  My  name's  Howard, — Clarence  Howard 

no  relation  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk!  " — here  he  laughed 

— "  and  I  don't  think  any  of  my  ancestors  went  over  the 
ocean  in  the  Mayflower.  I've  made  my  pile,  as  they  say; 
and  as  I  don't  need  to  work  any  more,  I'm  not  working — 
at  least -not  in  the  way  that's  usually  meant  by  work.  I 
don't  marry,  because  I  like  my  liberty  better  than  I  like 
women.  I'm  just  a  rover, — studying,  thinking  and  learning. 
I've  been  all  over  the  world  pretty  well.  And  I  find  the 
same  thing  everywhere — dry  rot !  And  the  crumbling  process 
is  going  on  as  fast  as  if  the  whole  fabric  of  law  and  morals 
were  being  eaten  away  by  a  swarm  of  white  ants !  And  what 
is  the  reason  of  it?  I  know  the  reason;  but  when  I  say  it 
out,  I'm  told  I'm  a  '  religious  humbug,'  and  that's  the  very 
last  thing  I  am  or  desire  to  be." 

Everton  surveyed  him  with  increasing  interest. 

"  Whatever  your  theory,  I  shall  hear  it  with  attention," — 
he  said,  "  and  I  at  least  shall  not  call  you  a  '  religious  hum- 
bug.' I'm  often  called  one  myself, — but  that  is  very  much 
the  way  in  which  the  clergy  are  regarded  by  the  modern 
world.  Perhaps,  however,  in  a  great  measure  this  is  the 
fault  of  the  clergy  themselves." 

"Why  there  you  speak  honestly," — said  Mr.  Howard — 
"  And  I  like  you  for  it !  It  is  the  fault  of  the  clergy.  And 
the  reason  of  the  universal  '  dry  rot '  in  our  civilization  is 
that  the  world  is  losing  its  grip  on  God.  It  is  slipping  away 
from  its  faith  in  Divine  Law  and  Order — and  wherever  and 
whenever  that  has  happened,  a  downfall  is  imminent.  I 
know  you  agree  with  me — because  I  know  who  you  are.  I 
heard  the  gentleman  who  has  just  left  you,  call  you  Richard 
Everton — and  I  consider  I'm  in  luck's  way  to  have  come 
across  you.  I've  read  the  reports  of  several  of  the  sermons 


HOLY    ORDERS  313 

you  have  preached  in  your  church  in  Shadbrook  on  the  Cots- 
wolds; — and  as  a  matter  of  fact  I'm  going  to  hear  you  preach 
to-morrow.  You've  said  some  very  brave,  bold  things,  sirl 
— and  I  should  like  to  shake  hands  with  youl" 

The  friendly  greeting  was  at  once  exchanged,  and,  sitting 
down  near  each  other,  the  two  men  fell  into  conversation  as 
readily  as  if  they  had  known  each  other  for  years. 

"  You've  been  fighting  the  biggest  devil  of  the  age,"  went 
on  Howard, — "  The  devil  of  Drink.  And  I  say,  go  on  fight- 
ing it — and  go  strong!  It's  the  curse  of  the  civilized  world, 
— it's  the  cause  of  all  the  fuddled  brains  that  make  states- 
manship a  farce!  Now,  you  appeal  for  the  most  part  to 
your  own  country  parishioners  to  try  and  quash  the  evil 
among  themselves — and  your  appeal  certainly  reaches  more 
places  than  you  know  of ; — but  you  should  appeal  to  London 
and  Birmingham  and  Leeds  and  Manchester — to  New  York 
and  Chicago!  And  not  only  should  you  appeal  to  the  poor 
and  degraded, — but  to  the  middle  and  upper  classes  who  call 
themselves  '  educated,'  and  yet  who  in  their  passion  for  liquor 
shame  the  very  beasts  by  their  bestiality.  They  are  the  worst 
sinners,  for  they  are  responsible  in  giving  a  '  lead,'  and  show- 
ing an  example.  I,  as  a  fairly  wealthy  man,  go  to  a  good 
many  so-called  '  smart '  houses, — for  the  British  upper  class 
female  having  resigned  her  former  renown  for  modesty  and 
virtue,  is  always  on  the  lookout  for  an  American  millionaire, 
and  takes  me  to  be  one — so  that  my  invitations  are  numerous. 
And  I  tell  you,  on  my  word  of  honor,  that  I  have  never 
stayed  at  a  country-house  party  yet  without  seeing  half  the 
men  and  most  of  the  women  fuddled  with  some  kind  of 
drink  long  before  sunset.  If  I  were  more  of  a  foreigner 
than  I  am,  and  had  to  take  a  hasty  glance  over  the  British 
Isles,  with  their  principal  cities,  London,  Edinburgh,  Glas- 
gow and  Dublin,  considered  superficially  and,  as  it  were,  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  I  should  say  that  the  chief  delight, 
aim  and  end  of  the  communities  at  large,  was  whisky-soda; 
— and  more  often  whisky  without  the  soda !  " 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,  I  hope," — said  Everton,  with 
rather  a  troubled  look; — "But  I'm  afraid  I  must  admit 
a  certain  substratum  of  truth  in  your  argument.  Govern- 
ment, however,  is  going  strenuously  to  work  to  minimize  if 


3H  HOLY     ORDERS 

not  to  wholly  remedy  the  evil;  and  we  may  hope  that,  per- 
haps, in  a  few  years'  time,  when  its  plans  are  formulated, 
there  will  be  fewer  public-houses " 

"And  fewer  brewers  and  distillers?"  interposed  Howard 

quickly; "Will  your  Government  make  it  illegal  to 

concoct  poison  for  the  national  consumption?  Will  it  insist 
on  the  making  of  wholesome  stuff,  and  inflict  not  only  heavy 
money  fines,  but  prison  punishment,  on  the  rascals  who  sell 
beer  which  is  not  beer,  and  spirit  which  is  a  deadly  mixture 
of  chemicals  ?  And  what  of  the  grocers  ?  " 

"  The  grocers  ?  " — echoed  Everton — "  You  mean " 

"  I  mean  that  the  grocers  are  every  whit  as  much  in  the 
drink  business  as  the  publicans.  It  was  W.  E.  Gladstone, 
I  believe,  and  his  Liberal  party  that  gave  wine  and  spirit 
licenses  to  the  grocers — licenses  which,  if  the  growing  mania 
for  drink  among  women  is  to  be  checked,  ought  to  be  at  once 
suppressed.  Who  shall  count  the  number  of  women  that 
order  intoxicating  liquors  from  the  grocers  and  have  the  cost 
put  down  on  the  monthly  account  as  so  many  pounds  of  tea 
or  coffee,  while  perhaps  the  fathers  of  the  families  concerned, 
knowing  their  wives'  habits,  take  every  pains  to  prevent  them 
getting  at  the  vile  stuff  which  maddens  their  brains  and 
degrades  their  lives,  and  cannot  understand  how  it  is  that, 
despite  all  effort,  they  still  manage  to  procure  it!  Talk  of 
'  blighted  homes '  and  '  deserted  hearths  ' !  The  grocers' 
licenses  have  as  much  to  do  with  the  evil  state  of  things  as 
the  publicans'  licenses, — and  if  ever  the  time  comes  to  deal 
with  the  Drink  question  in  honest  earnest, — no  two-mouthed 
tomfoolery,  mind! — by  which  I  mean  no  playing  to  the  gal- 
lery with  one  mouth  and  whispering  to  the  Trade  with  the 
other, — why  the  grocers'  licenses  should  be  the  first  to  be 
done  away  with  altogether." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you !  " — said  Everton — "  In  fact,  I 
think  it's  likely  more  drink  is  sold  to  the  people  from  the 
grocery  stores  than  from  the  public-houses.  It's  curious  we 
don't  realize  this  more  generally  and  forcibly." 

"  People  are  slow  to  realize  any  straight  fact  nowadays," 
— rejoined  Howard — "  The  modern  brain  is  like  a  bad  egg — 
addled.  Every  one  is  more  or  less  fevered  with  the  mania 
of  money-making, — and  when  the  money  is  made  they  have 
neither  the  education  nor  the  intelligence  to  spend  it  prop- 


HOLY    ORDERS  315 

erly.  But  there! — no  one  can  reform  the  bad  or  better  the 
good.  It's  been  tried  over  and  over  again — before  Christ, 
and  after  Him — and  it's  no  use.  The  wheel  of  civilization 
revolves  a  certain  number  of  times  and  then  it  stops!  Then 
follows  a  great  cleaning  of  the  clock  and  a  putting  in  of  new 
works  by  the  Almighty — and  presently,  after  considerable 
trouble  and  delay,  on  it  goes  again!  But  the  world  has  a 
bad  half-hour  while  the  renovating  business  is  in  prog- 
ress! " 

"  Do  you  think  civilization  has  reached  the  high-water 
mark  in  your  country?"  asked  Everton. 

"  No,  sir,  I  do  not.  I  consider  my  country  and  my  coun- 
trymen in  the  adolescent  or  '  gawk '  condition  of  dry  rot — 
that  is  to  say,  the  raw  material  is  crumbling  out  of  shape  in 
order  to  re-form.  America  is  like  a  half-grown  boy  who  is 
all  collar  and  tie  and  is  proud  of  his  pants.  His  pockets  are 
full  of  string  and  marbles,  and  he  thinks  them  valuable 
property.  He  pulls  them  out  every  few  minutes  and  looks 
at  them  with  pride.  He  shows  them  to  you,  and  chortles 
over  them,  saying:  'See  what  I've  got!'  He  thinks  you 
ought  to  put  down  everything  of  your  own,  and  stand  admir- 
ing his  pocket-knife  with  eight  blades.  He  considers  you 
a  fool  if  you  don't  attach  any  importance  to  his  opinion. 
He's  all  Self-consciousness  and  Brag.  But  remember! — he's 
only  a  Boy.  When  he's  a  Man," — here  he  paused,  and  his 
fine  eyes  sparkled  with  animation — "  Yes ! — when  he's  a 
Man,  he's  as  likely  as  not  to  be  the  finest  Creature  in  the 
world!" 

"  You  really  are  of  that  opinion  ?  " 

"  I  really  am.  You  see  Americans  are  a  mixed  race — 
every  kind  of  blood  is  mingled  in  their  veins,  bad  and  good, 
and  it  takes  time  for  the  good  to  work  uppermost, — but  it's 
bound  to  rise !  Then  we  have  plenty  of  '  grit '  and  '  dash  ' 

and  we're  not  afraid  of  ourselves  or  of  anybody  else. 

Of  course  we've  set  up  our  house  in  a  hurry,  and  we've  got 
a  good  deal  of  rubbish  in  it,  because,  being  young,  we  wanted 
to  furnish  all  at  once ;  and  we  bought  too  much  and  crammed 
too  many  things  in — but  we  shall  clear  by  degrees,  sir! — we 
shall  clear!  We  shall  get  over  the  String-and-Marble  age, 
— and  we  shall  find  that  dollars  are  not  everything.  And 
with  maturity  we  shall  develop  idealism,  nobility  of  char- 


316  HOLY     ORDERS 

acter  and  exalted  aims, — but  you  must  give  us  a  little  more 
time  to  grow !  " 

He  laughed  pleasantly,  and  then  fell  to  talking  about 
London  and  its  violent  contrasting  effects  of  vast  wealth  and 
abject  poverty,  and  again  the  national  curse  of  dxink  came 
uppermost  for  discussion. 

"  If  you've  nothing  more  pressing  to  do  this  evening,  it 
might  warm  you  up  for  to-morrow's  sermon  if  you  would 
take  a  stroll  with  me  through  some  of  the  drink  centers," — 
he  said,  "  I  have  made  a  study  of  them,  and  I  know  much 
of  what  goes  on  in  them.  I  can  show  you  places  where 
women  with  babies  in  arms  drink  till  the  babies  drop  on 
the  floor  and  lie  there  like  little  bundles  of  rags,  quite  dis- 
regarded. Some  of  the  proprietors  of  these  infernal  dens 
advertise  '  Storage  for  Perambulators,'  as  an  encouragement 
to  the  mothers  of  infants  to  come  in.  Looking  away  back 
down  the  past- years,  it  seems  there  were  times  when  a  drunken 
mother  was  so  rarely  seen  that  such  an  one  was  bound  to  be 
ashamed  of  herself  as  a  disgraceful  exception; — now  there 
are  thousands  of  drunken  mothers.  They  do  not  mind  spend- 
ing whole  mornings  in  the  public-house.  They  neglect  their 
duties  just  as  much  as  the  fashionable  lady  of  to-day  neglects 
hers.  There  is  no  strong  wave  of  opinion  that  sweeps  through 
the  land  to  cleanse  it  of  this  great  abomination.  Now  in 
the  Southern  States  of  America  there  is  a  great  revulsion 
against  the  drink,  because  of  the  frequency  of  outrages  on 
women  by  negroes.  Drink  has  been  proved  to  be  generally 
at  the  bottom  of  these  revolting  crimes,  and  the  citizens  of 
Georgia  have  voted  out  the  drink  altogether.  Don't  forget 
that  the  Governor  who  signed  that  Bill  signed  away  a  large 
personal  income  of  his  own  derived  from  the  selling  of 
liquor!  I  think  his  name  will  be  found  in  the  Book  of  Life 
somewhere ! " 

"  No  doubt  of  that !  " — said  Everton,  his  thoughts  revert- 
ing to  Shadbrook,  Minchin's  Brewery,  and  Minchin  himself 
— "  I  don't  think  I  could  name  a  single  British  brewer  or 
spirit  distiller  who  would  do  as  much !  " 

Howard  smiled. 

"Well,  that's  your  saying,  not  mine! — I  wouldn't  so  in- 
sult the  conscience  of  your  nation," — he  said — "  But  I'm 


HOLY    ORDERS  317 

afraid  the  British  Lion  is  getting  a  bit  selfish — inclined  to 
sleep  in  the  sun  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  looking  after  his 
own  comfort  more  than  anything  else, — however,  I'm  too 
fond  of  the  grand  old  Growler  to  hope  anything  but  good 
of  him!  It  may  be  he'll  wake  up  with  an  honest  roar  quite 
suddenly,  and  chase  away  all  such  vested  interests  in  the 
national  degradation  as  make  intemperance  necessary.  I  use 
the  word  '  necessary '  advisedly — because  to  earn  any  sort 
of  profitable  dividends  on  the  capital  invested  in  the  beer 
and  spirit  trades,  national  drunkenness  would,  roughly  speak- 
ing, seem  imperative.  In  the  year  1904,  your  most  flaccid 
statesman,  Balfour,  repudiated  all  public  responsibility  for 
the  miseries  of  drink,  and  put  the  whole  blame  on  the  '  gross 
and  criminal  self-indulgence  of  the  working-classes.'  Well, 
all  I  can  say  about  that,  is  that  I  hope  the  working-classes 
have  got  his  insult  pretty  well  fixed  into  their  heads,  and 
that  it  will  keep  them  firm  against  voting  for  him  or  his 
party.  It  was,  I  suppose,  convenient  for  him  to  forget  that 
in  order  to  keep  up  the  profits  of  the  trade  interests  he  was 
defending,  the  '  gross  criminal  self-indulgence '  he  talked  so 
big  about  was  an  absolute  sine  qua  non.  And  he  also  for- 
got that  the  statesmen  who  abuse  the  working-classes  go  the 
quickest  way  to  cutting  their  own  throats,  for  they  all  de- 
pend on  the  working-class  votes.  And  who  persuades  the 
working-classes  to  drink  themselves  blind  and  silly  more 
than  the  selfish  fellows  who  want  to  be  returned  to  Parlia- 
ment by  hook  or  by  crook,  somehow  or  anyhow  ?  A  drunken 
man's  vote  counts  as  well  as  that  of  a  sober  one,  and  the  more 
drunk  the  electors  are,  the  more  chance  there  is  of  their  elect- 
ing the  scheming  rogue  who  '  treats '  them.  When  they 
get  sober  again  they  discover  they've  been  '  had,'  and  that 
they've  chosen  a  scheming  rogue  to  represent  them;  but  it's 
too  late  then  to  remedy  the  mischief.  '  Gross  criminal  self- 
indulgence  '  indeed !  That's  pretty  tall  talk !  I  should  like 
to  know  if  Mr.  Balfour  himself  has  never  gone  in  for  that 
kind  of  variety  entertainment, — if  not  in  one  form,  perhaps 
in  another ! " 

"  You  must  not  presume  to  make  such  a  suggestion," — 
said  Everton,  smiling  gravely — "  There  is  no  such  thing  as 
*  gross  criminal  self-indulgence '  among  the  '  upper '  classes* 


3i8  HOLY     ORDERS 

They  stand  aloft  on  the  peaks  of  an  inaccessible  virtue.  That 
is  why  they  are  able  to  cast  aspersions  on  their  '  lower* 
brothers  and  sisters  with  so  much  dignified  acrimony!" 

Howard  studied  his  face  with  keen  and  searching  intent- 
ness, — then  smiled  responsively. 

"  Exactly !  "  he  said — "  You  understand  the  position. 
Shall  we  dine  together?" 

"  With  pleasure.    At  what  hour?  " 

"  At  eight ; but  not  here.  Come  to  the  Savoy  Res- 
taurant. It  will  interest  you.  It  shows  what  human  beings 
can  do  in  the  way  of  pampering  their  stomachs  while  they 
starve  their  brains.  And  it  will  be  rather  amusing  there 
to-night,  for  Claude  Ferrers  is  giving  a  dinner  to  his  '  Aero- 
Club  '  friends, — '  rank,  beauty,  fashion '  and  all  the  rest 
of  it!" 

"Who  is  Claude  Ferrers?" 

Howard  laughed. 

"  Ah !  Your  Shadbrook  must  be  hidden  well  out  of  the 
world  if  you  have  never  heard  of  him!  Claude  Ferrers? 
Why,  he  is  a  famous  aeronaut;  a  man  who  spends 
fabulous  sums  of  money  in  the  construction  of  balloons  and 
aeroplanes  and  airships.  He  is  the  owner  of  a  gorgeous  steer- 
able  balloon  in  which  all  the  pretty  '  smart '  women  take 
trips  with  him  for  '  change  of  air.'  Such  a  change  has  its 

risks,  of  course; but  then, — if  none  of  them  ever  came 

back  they  would  never  be  missed!  He  is  an  atheist,  a  de- 
generate, and one  of  the  most  popular  '  Souls  '  in  decadent 

English  society !  " 

"  I  would  rather  not  know  him," — said  Everton  quickly. 

"  Know  him !  My  dear  sir,  you  won't  know  him !  You 
cant  know  him!  It's  much  more  easy  to  know  the  King 

than  Claude  Ferrers.  For  the  King  must  know  people ; 

but  Ferrers  won't  know  any  one  unless  he  chooses.  But 
come  and  see  him!  Yes, — you  ought!  It  will  bring  your 
blood  to  boiling-point  for  to-morrow!  Just  to  have  a  look 
at  the  fat,  smooth-faced  sensualist  and  voluptuary  whose 
reputation  for  shameless  vice  makes  him  the  pride  and  joy 
of  Upper-Ten  Jezebels,  will  help  you  along  like  a  gale  of 
wind !  And  a  light  will  be  flung  on  your  inner  consciousness, 
which,  if  you  are  going  to  try  and  help  the  world  out  of 


HOLY    ORDERS  319 

the  pit  it  is  falling  into," — here  he  paused,  and  approaching 
Everton  laid  one  hand  with  an  impressive  gesture  on  his 

arm "  I  say  if  you  are  going  to  help  the  world and 

I  think  you  are! — that  lurid  light  thrown  across  your  white 
mind  is  absolutely  necessary !  " 

Everton  sighed, — then  meeting  the  warm,  persuasive  glance 
of  his  new  friend's  kind  eyes,  smiled. 

"As  you  like!" — he  said — "You  are  so  very  earnest 
about  it  that  I  should  feel  myself  a  churl  to  refuse  you.  But 
I  am  not  at  all  the  sort  of  man  for  society  scenes " 

"  You  are !  You  are  just  the  sort  of  man  for  society 

scenes  " declared  Howard ; "  They  exist  for  your 

comment  and  consideration.  Society  scenes  made  the  fame 
of  the  Prophet  Isaiah.  Without  society  scenes  he  would  not 
have  been  able  to  say:  '  Their  land  is  full  of  silver  and  gold, 
neither  is  there  any  end  of  their  treasures;  their  land  is  also 
full  of  horses,  neither  is  there  any  end  of  their  chariots.' 

And '  The  shew  of  their  countenance  doth  witness 

against  them ;  and  they  declare  their  sin  as  Sodom,  they  hide 
it  not.  Woe  unto  their  soul!  for  they  have  rewarded  evil 
unto  themselves ! '  " 

He  spoke  the  words  slowly,  with  a  wonderfully  musical 
rhythm  of  utterance,  and  Everton  heard  him  with  surprise 
as  well  as  admiration. 

"  I  think  you  are  a  preacher  yourself," — he  said. 

"  Say  an  actor,  and  you  might  be  nearer  the  mark," — re- 
plied Howard,  laughing.  "  I  was  on  the  stage  for  a  short 
time  as  a  youngster,  but  I  got  tired  of  the  grease-paint  and 
the  footlights  and  took  to  a  ranching  life  instead.  However, 

my  short  probation  with  sock  and  buskin  did  me  good; 

I  learned  how  to  read  properly; an  art  in  which  few 

clergy  excel, — and  I  imbibed  Shakespeare  as  gratefully  as 
a  fish  imbibes  water.  The  Bible  and  Shakespeare  are  my 
two  literary  bulwarks." 

"You  could  not  have  any  stronger  ones," — said  Ever- 
ton  "  All  literature  leans  upon  those  twain, — the  two 

least  understood  great  works  of  the  world !  " 

They  drifted  into  generalities  after  this,  and  presently 
parted,  to  meet  again  two  or  three  hours  later  at  the  entrance 
of  the  Savoy  Restaurant.  A  number  of  brilliantly  attired 


320  HOLY     ORDERS 

women  were  standing  or  sitting  about  in  the  hall  or  lounge 
of  this  famous  London  eating-house,  talking  to,  or  staring 
at  each  other  during  the  '  mauvais  quart  d'heure '  before 
dinner; — most  of  them  had  their  faces  painted  and  their 
hair  dyed,  and  one  and  all  presented  exactly  the  appearance 
of  variety  actresses  waiting  their  '  turn.'  Their  dresses  were 
much  more  worth  observation  than  themselves,  many  of 
these  being  extravagant  marvels  of  the  costumier's  art, — 
their  own  persons  were  merely  the  props  on  which  the  won- 
derful garments  clung  and  trailed  and  sparkled  and  swept 
round  in  serpentine  folds  of  bewilderingly  varied  hue  and 
much  perfumed  rustling.  Jewels,  both  real  and  sham,  the 
sham,  of  course,  predominating,  sparkled  lavishly  on  the 
brows,  bosoms  and  arms  of  these  fair  feminine  diners-out, 
thus  giving  their  artificial  attractions  that  last  '  imperial ' 
touch  which  made  them  look  the  very  queens  of  comedy,  and 
as  Everton,  walking  with  his  American  acquaintance,  slowly 
descended  the  softly-carpeted  steps  leading  from  the  lounge 
into  the  dining-room,  many  heads  were  turned  after  him,  and 
many  eyes  silently  questioned  his  identity.  That  he  was  not 
an  habitue  of  restaurants  was  evident  at  a  glance.  The  re- 
pose of  his  manner,  the  calm  dignity  of  his  movements,  the 
gravely  observant  expression  of  his  pale,  intellectual  face — 
all  these  denoted  a  personality  far  removed  from  that  of  the 
ordinary  Savoy  lounger  and  epicure.  People  looked  at  him, 
whispered  and  wondered.  He  was  quite  unconscious  that  his 
appearance  excited  any  comment.  Howard  caught  one  or  two 
remarks  that  were  half  depreciatory,  half  flattering  to  his 
companion,  and  was  faintly  amused.  Just  as  they  were  about 
to  enter  the  dining-room,  he  touched  Everton's  arm. 

"  That's  Claude  Ferrers,"  he  said. 

Everton  looked  and  saw  a  massively  built  man  of  between 
forty-five  and  fifty,  with  a  fat,  clean-shaven  face  and  reddish 
hair  which  he  wore  parted  in  the  middle  and  rather  long 
over  the  ears.  The  eyes  of  this  individual  were  remarkable, 
— they  projected  slightly  in  their  sockets  like  balls  of  pale- 
blue  glass  with  a  light  behind  them,  ahd  challenged  all  other 
eyes  with  a  curious  kind  of  insistent  self-defense.  There  was 
no  real  human  expression  in  them, — only  the  peculiar  glassy 
brilliancy  and  the  fixed  '  What  do  you  know  of  me? '  query. 


HOLY    ORDERS  321 

They  turned  on  Everton  as  he  passed  by  with  a  sudden  open- 
ing stare; then  the  white  puffy  lids  dropped  over  them 

languidly  in  lazy  disdain.  This  was  the  look  Ferrers  gave  to 
all  strangers;  a  look  which  generally  had  the  effect  of 
making  them  either  uncomfortable  or  indignant.  Everton, 
however,  was  unaffected  by  it; — one  glance  at  the  man  suf- 
ficed to  show  him  the  type  of  creature  he  was, — one  of  those 
openly  admitted  decadents  and  libertines  who,  with  the 
gracious  permission  and  approval  of  the  Pulpit  and  the 
Throne,  are  nowadays  given  free  license  to  contaminate 
the  minds  of  the  women  of  England,  and  so  undermine  the 
future  honor  of  the  nation  itself.  Their  vices  are  well  known, 
but  are  '  hushed  up  ' ;  and  the  fact  that  many,  if  not  most 
of  them  are  '  well-connected,'  moves  even  the  Law  to  ex- 
cuse them  from  appearing  in  their  rightful  place — the  crim- 
inal dock. 

Following  Howard  into  the  dining-room,  Everton  pres- 
ently found  himself  seated  at  one  of  the  smaller  side-tables 
which  commanded  a  good  view  of  a  certain  portion  of  the 
room  set  apart  for  private  dinner-parties.  Here  there  was 
a  blaze  of  light  and  color,  and  a  long  table  was  set  out  fof 
some  sixteen  persons,  above  which  a  large  toy  balloon,  com- 
posed of  red  and  white  roses  and  lit  from  within  by  elec- 
tricity, was  so  arranged  as  to  appear  rising  from  the  center 
of  the  board,  just  held  in  place  by  cords  of  gold  and  silver 
attached  to  imitation  'sand-bags'  of  perfume.  Tiny  bal- 
loons of  creamy  satin,  tied  with  gold  thread,  served  as 
*  menus '  and  guest-cards,  and  were  set  at  each  person's 
right  hand,  and  the  effective  coloring  of  the  whole  design 
was  furthermore  enhanced  by  long  trails  of  red  and  white 
roses  laid  with  a  carelessly  lavish  grace  down  the  center  of 
the  whole  length  of  the  table.  It  was  impossible  to  avoid 
looking  at  such  an  original  and  beautiful  display  of  flowers, 
and  Everton  made  a  remark  to  Howard  not  only  on  the  taste 
displayed  in  the  decoration,  but  also  on  the  pity  and  extrava- 
gance of  it. 

"  I  deplore  the  fate  of  those  glorious  roses,"  he  said — 
"  They  are  as  living  as  we  are,  and  no  doubt  when  growing 
on  the  parent  stem  were  sensible  of  the  joys  of  life.  It  seems 
cruel  to  kill  them  for  the  pleasure  of  a  night." 


322  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  It's  the  spirit  of  Heliogabalus  over  again,"  rejoined 
Howard ; "  London  and  New  York  are  merely  repeat- 
ing the  orgies  of  Greece  and  Rome  which  took  place  just 
before  their  fall.  Claude  Ferrers  is  a  modern  Heliogabalus 
in  his  very  modern  way;  he  makes  everything  and  every- 
body minister  to  himself  and  his  personal  comfort;  and  by 
dint  of  learning  a  few  salacious  witticisms  out  of  Moliere 
and  Baudelaire,  he  almost  persuades  people  to  think  him  a 
wit  and  a  poet.  But  he  is  the  biggest  Fraud  nature  and  art 
ever  perpetuated, — even  his  profound  interest  in  science  is 
only  a  '  pose,' — and  he  runs  a  balloon,  instead  of  a  motor-car 
or  carriage,  merely  in  order  that  the  fool  newspapers  may 
notice  his  antics  and  print  '  interviews '  with  him.  See, — 
here  he  comes  with  his  little  flock  of  '  souls '  which  no  creed 
can  save !  " 

Everton  turned  his  head  to  look; — then  the  blood  rushed 
to  his  face  in  a  burning  tide  and  as  quickly  retreated,  leaving 
him  deathly  pale.  For  he  saw  one  whom  he  had  hoped  and 
prayed  never  to  see  again.  A  woman,  clothed  in  clinging 
gossamer  white,  with  a  band  of  great  rubies  and  diamonds 
set  in  the  rich  coils  of  her  hair,  and  the  same  precious  stones 
blazing  on  her  uncovered  arms  and  bosom,  entered  the  room 
on  the  arm  of  Claude  Ferrers,  moving  so  lightly  that  she 
seemed  to  float  rather  than  walk, — a  woman  so  perfectly 
lovely  in  face  and  form  that  even  the  most  fastidious  critic 
could  not  have  found  a  flaw  in  her  beauty, — a  woman  whom 
all  eyes  followed, — the  men  gloating  upon  her  in  mute  admi- 
ration, the  women  watching  her  in  speechless  envy, — so 
that  her  appearance  actually  caused  a  sudden  silence  among 
the  talkative  Savoy  diners,  almost  as  though  some  heavenly 
angel  should  have  swept  white  wings  through  the  earthly 
crowd.  She  was  smiling  as  she  came,  and  listening  with  an 
air  of  graceful  tolerance  to  the  evidently  eager  and  undis- 
guised flatteries  of  her  host  of  the  evening, — when,  just  as 
she  reached  the  portioned-off  recess  where  the  table  for  Fer- 
rers and  his  party  was  prepared,  some  strange  instinctive 
impulse  moved  her,  and,  raising  her  dark,  brilliant  eyes  she 
met  Everton's  calm  sad  gaze  fixed  upon  her.  For  one  second 
she  paused, — and  in  that  second  two  spirits  rose  up  in  arms 
and  challenged  each  other  for  good  or  for  evil, — then, 


HOLY    ORDERS  323 

smiling  still,  she  passed  on,  leading  the  way  for  the  other 
guests,  who  all  followed  her  into  the  private  room,  where- 
upon obsequious  waiters  dropped  a  heavy  velvet  curtain 
across  the  entrance  and  veiled  the  scene  of  festivity  from 
view.  With  her  disappearance  the  tension  of  Everton's 
nerves  relaxed, — and  he  heaved  a  deep,  unconscious  sigh. 
Howard,  noting  his  companion's  pallor,  had  watched  him 
rather  curiously,  but  had  refrained  from  speaking.  Now, 
however,  he  said  quietly: 

"  We're  rather  lucky  to-night.  We've  seen  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  London." 

Everton  started  as  if  from  a  dream. 

"  Have  we?    You  mean  the  one  that  has  just  passed  by?  " 

"  Of  course !  There's  no  one  else  in  the  running !  Why," 
and  Howard  laughed — "  You  looked  at  her  so  very  earnestly 
that  I  thought  it  was  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight!  " 

A  faint  cold  shudder  ran  through  Everton's  veins. 

"  God  forbid !  "  he  murmured — then  forcing  himself  to 
speak  in  a  lighter  tone  he  said : — "  I  think  I  have  seen  her 
face  before " 

"  I  daresay  you  have — she's  been  photographed  in  every 

possible  position — with  clothes, — and without!  She  was 

a  '  variety '  girl — a  very  daring  dancer ; — and  now  she's 
Mrs.  Nordstein,  the  wife  of  Israel  Nordstein,  the  million- 
aire. Claude  Ferrers  calls  her  the  '  Magic  Crystal '  on  ac- 
count of  her  name." 

"  And  that  name  is ?  " 

"  A  pretty  and  uncommon  one, — Jacynth." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

JACYNTH.'  He  heard  it  with  a  sense  of  relief.  Of 
course  he  had  known  it  all  the  time.  The  unforgettable 
face  with  its  jewel  eyes  and  rose-red  mouth  could  only 
belong  to  one  woman — and  that  woman  she  whom  last  he 
had  seen  in  the  village  street  of  Shadbrook  on  the  day  young 
Hadley  had  died.  The  day,  too,  on  which  she  herself  had 
sworn  that  the  next  time  he  saw  her  she  would  be  '  different.' 
He  recalled  the  defiant  ring  of  her  voice  when  she  had 
uttered  the  vow ! — "  I  swear  to  you  that  next  time  you  see 
me  I'll  be  different.  I  will ! "  And  when  he  had  gently 
asked  her  if  that  was  a  promise,  she  had  flung  up  her  arms 
with  a  wild  gesture  and  had  affirmed  it.  "  That's  a  promise ! 
Do  you  hear  it,  Almighty  God?  It's  a  promise!"  Al- 
mighty God  had  apparently  listened  to  her  adjuration,  for 
she  had  kept  her  word. 

Oh,  she  had  kept  her  word  with  a  vengeance!  She  was 
indeed  '  different,' — very  different,  and  yet  the  same, — 
always  the  same  Jacynth.  The  rubies  and  diamonds  flash- 
ing on  her  white  breast  enhanced  her  beauty  no  more  than 
had  the  simple  bunch  of  primroses  she  had  once  worn  at  the 
opening  of  her  blue  cotton  bodice, — the  same  dazzling  fair- 
ness of  skin  gave  its  glamour  to  both.  And  yet  her  loveliness 
made  her  all  the  more  loathed  in  his  thoughts.  To  him 
she  was  an  embodied  curse  and  cruelty, — a  pestilential  cloud 
that  had  broken  in  black  thunder  over  his  life  and  made 
wreckage  of  that  as  well  as  of  every  other  life  its  blighting 
influence  had  darkened.  He  looked  upon  her  as  a  murderess. 
For  though  she  had  dealt  no  blows,  and  had  used  neither 
poison  nor  dagger,  four  deaths  lay  at  her  door.  He 
counted  them  up  inexorably  in  his  mind, — young  Hadley, 
Jennie  Kiernan,  his  own  wife  Azalea,  and,  finally,  Dan 
Kiernan — Dan,  who  had  been  her  lover!  Dan  her  lover! 
To  think  of  it ! — the  huge,  hulking,  drunken  sot  had  actually 
been  the  lover  of  that  dainty  lady  of  fashion  who  had  just 
passed  him  by,  robed  in  glistening  white  and  wearing  jewels 

324 


HOLY    ORDERS  325 

worth  a  fortune !  A  bitter  lump  rose  in  his  throat, — a  swell- 
ing threat  of  tears  commingled  with  fierce  laughter, — and 
it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  he  restrained  the  hurry- 
ing tempest  of  his  thoughts,  and  forced  himself  to  listen  to 
what  his  host  was  saying.  Howard  noticed  his  abstraction, 
but  with  kindly  tact  went  on  talking  as  though  he  had  the 
most  attentive  of  auditors. 

"  Balloon  parties  are  the  newest  things  in  social  func- 
tions," he  said — "  And  Aero-Clubs  are  all  the  rage.  The 
Scum-people — by  which  expression  I  mean  the  human  stuff 
that  rises  to  the  top  of  Society  soup  and  has  to  be  skimmed 
off  and  thrown  away — are  tired  of  the  earth  and  all  that 
therein  is.  They  have  exhausted  it  by  their  own  tedium. 
They  want  to  see  if  the  air  is  equally  boresome.  They 
have  resolved  to  match  their  midget  selves  against  the 
forces  of  the  elements.  It  is  a  '  new  sensation.'  You  will 
often  notice  (if  you  ever  read  society  items)  such  sparkling 
statements  as  this  for  example:  '  Lord  and  Lady  High-Liver 
will  entertain  a  balloon  house-party  at  their  country  seat 
this  autumn  for  their  son  the  Honorable  Fool  Rising.  Their 
guests  include  Count  Monten-Haut  of  the  Belgian  Aero- 
Club,  Count  Vol-au-Vent  of  the  French  Aero-Club,  Mr. 
Claude  Ferrers  and  Captain  Batswing  of  the  War  Office. 
Four  balloons  are  to  be  in  use  for  ascents  every  day.' 
Naturally  such  news  is  of  the  utmost  moment  to  the  world! 
Mrs.  Nordstein  is  always  included  in  these  parties,  not  only 
because  she  is  beautiful  and  a  Court  favorite,  but  because} 
her  husband  is  a  millionaire  and  one  of  the  largest  share- 
holders in  several  of  the  halfpenny  dailies,  which  eagerly 
chronicle  such  air-trips  as  being  of  rare  importance  to  the 
working,  thinking  million  who  only  give  a  dull  curse  or  two 
of  contempt  for  the  whole  farrago  of  nonsense.  She  is  very 
daring,  too,  and  ventures  on  the  highest  balloon  ascents  with 
the  nerve  and  sang-froid  of  Claude  Ferrers  himself.  A 
French  impressionist  lately  made  a  picture  of  her,  in  the  car 
of  a  balloon,  with  very  scanty  raiment  on,  which  he  called, 
'  Beauty's  voyage  to  the  stars.'  It  was  published  in  one 
of  the  papers  that  tickle  the  eyes  of  the  groundlings  with 
pictures  of  the  semi-nude." 

Everton's  face  grew  cold  and  stern. 


326  HOLY    ORDERS 

"  So  though  she  is  married,  she  is  still  the  variety  mime!  " 
he  said. 

"  Of  course !  What  do  you  expect  ?  Her  husband  is 
proud  of  her  '  variety  '  conduct.  If  she  could  not  draw  other 
men  into  his  '  Company '  nets,  what  use  would  she  be  to 
him?  Marriage  is  not  a  sacrament  nowadays — it  is  merely 
a  form  for  the  legalizing  of  children  in  order  that  they  may 
inherit  what  their  fathers  leave  them.  The  fathers  always 
have  lots  of  other  children  who  don't  inherit, — the  law  takes 
no  notice  of  them.  '  Love '  in  the  twentieth  century  is  not 
the  love  depicted  in  the  novels  of  Scott  and  Dickens.  Great 
and  noble  as  these  two  writers  were  and  are  in  their  ideals*, 
we  know,  sadly  enough,  that  the  characters  they  depict  are 
not  true  to  life  as  life  is  presented  to  us  here  and  now,  for 
example, — in  this  Savoy  Restaurant — in  that  private  cur- 
tained-off  dining-room — in  the  crowded  streets  outside,  or  in 
modern  society  anywhere.  Novelists  should  write  of  what 
is,  not  of  what  they  dream  should  be, — and  you  may  bet 
what  you  like,  sir,  if  they  did,  they  would  be  unable  to  find 
much  idyllic  sentiment  in  modern  matrimony!  " 

At  these  words  a  vision  flitted  before  Richard's  eyes  of  a 
sweet,  childlike  face  framed  in  fair  hair,  that  looked  at  him 
with  the  tenderest  dark  blue  eyes, — of  soft  kissing  lips,  and 
a  dear  little  voice  that  said :  "  You  are  my  husband, — my 
husband,  my  darling  and  my  best  in  the  whole  world  I  " 
Oh,  Azalea !  Oh,  sweet  life  so  cruelly  done  to  death !  Poor 
fond  little  woman!  She  had  loved  him!  With  all  her 
pretty  graceful  follies,  inconsistencies  and  caprices,  she  was 
pure  as  a  drop  of  dew,  and  her  memory  came  to  him  now 
with  a  freshness  and  fragrance  as  though  a  cluster  of  cool 
lilies  should  be  suddenly  laid  in  feverish  hands. 

"  I  think  you  generalize  too  much," — he  said,  in  a  voice 

that  trembled  ever  so  slightly ; "  All  marriages  are  not 

sordid.  Love  is  still  a  vital  force,  if  not  with  the  rich,  with 
the  poor.  I  ought  not  perhaps  to  speak  of  myself  in  the 
matter,  yet  in  simple  justice  to  the  loveliness  of  true  woman- 
hood, I  know  that  whatever  ability  I  have  or  whatever  use 
I  may  be  to  my  fellow-creatures  is  entirely  owing  to  the 
great  happiness  of  my  married  life,  which  helped  and 

strengthened  me.  And, though  my  wife  is  dead her 

influence  upon  me  remains  present  and  actual;  indeed  I 


HOLY    ORDERS  327 

know  it  would  not  be  possible  for  me  to  do  anything  with- 
out her." 

He  spoke  with  a  grave  simplicity  that  was  infinitely  pa- 
thetic, and  his  companion,  looking  ato  him,  saw  that  he  was 
most  wonderfully  and  sacredly  in  earnest.  The  steadfast 
eyes  reflected  the  poise  of  a  soul  fixed  on  one  love  and  one 
purpose,  and  there  was  not  a  shadow  of  affectation  in  the 
feeling  he  expressed.  A  great  and  tender  respect  filled 
Howard's  mind  for  the  man's  gentle  yet  powerful  char- 
acter;  the  temperament  which  was  that  of  half-child, 

half -hero;  and  he  answered  quickly  and  with  some  com- 
punction : — 

"  I  understand — and  I  believe  you!  I  will  not  even  say 
that  I  consider  you  may  be  an  exception  to  the  rule  of 
husbands.  And — you  must  try  to  forgive  my  cynicism!  I 
have  traveled  far  and  seen  much, — and  have  grown  some- 
what disheartened  as  to  the  '  betterment '  of  humanity.  I 
forgot " — and  his  face  flushed  with  the  warmth  of  a  sin- 
cere emotion — "  I  forgot  that  to  you  of  all  men  I  should 
not  have  spoken  of  the  modern  degradation  of  the  marriage 
tie." 

Everton  thanked  him  silently  by  an  eloquent  glance,  and 
the  conversation  fell  into  a  lighter  vein.  Howard  was  an 
entertaining  and  brilliant  talker,  and  under  the  influence 
of  the  warmth  and  brightness  of  the  Savoy  dining-room,  the 
crowds  of  gay  people,  and  the  sound  of  the  exquisite  music 
with  which  the  diners  were  regaled,  the  trouble  and  storm 
which  had  stirred  the  waters  of  sorrowful  remembrance  in 
Everton's  soul  at  sight  of  Jacynth,  gradually  subsided,  and 
left  him  possessed  of  even  more  than  his  usual  calm.  En- 
couraged to  do  so,  he  told  his  new  friend  some  of  the 
difficulties  of  a  country  clergyman's  life  in  England, — of  the 
various  oppositions  to  good  with  which  such  an  one  has  to 
contend, — and  above  all  of  the  potency  of  drink  in  a  neigh- 
borhood where  the  chief  employer  of  labor  is  a  brewer  or 
distiller. 

"  You  may  fight  for  the  cause  of  Christ,"  he  said,  "  till 
every  fiber  of  your  spirit  is  strained  to  breaking — but  the 
man  who  teaches  Drink  always  overcomes  the  man  who 
preaches  God.  It  is  horrible  to  have  to  say  such  a  thing, — 
it  is  a  disgrace  to  our  holy  religion, — yet  so  it  is.  No  Church 


328  HOLY     ORDERS 

can  really  reform  a  drunkard, — he  is  the  child  of  the  devil 
and  the  devil  keeps  his  own.  We  try,  we  clergy — with  all 
our  faults,  and  they  are  many, — we  try  our  best — in  vain  I 
And  the  cause  of  our  failure  is  not  far  to  seek.  It  is  really 
more  physical  than  spiritual.  The  bodily  craving  of  a  man 
for  strong  drink  is  a  disease,  generated  by  what  he  has  im- 
bibed. The  brewers  put  stuff  into  their  beer  to  excite  an 
unnatural  thirst  for  more — the  distillers  do  the  same  with 
the  spirituous  liquors — in  fact,  I  look  upon  a  drunkard  as 
a  poisoned  man,  needing  the  immediate  assistance  of  the 
doctor.  The  clergy  are  not  qualified  to  deal  with  purely 
medical  matters." 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  the  dessert  stage  of  their 
dinner,  and  Howard,  helping  himself  to  a  rosy-vested  pear, 
began  to  peel  it  slowly. 

"  Presuming  you  will  pardon  me  for  the  remark,  the 
clergy  are  at  present  not  qualified  to  deal  with  any  matters, 
at  all," — he  said — "  Not  in  the  way  they  are  going  on. 
They  are  in  a  great  many  cases  corruptible,  and  open  to  the 
bribery  of  Rome.  You  tell  me  of  country  clergymen  who 
find  their  lives  difficult.  Well!  I  can  tell  you  of  country 
clergymen  who  make  their  lives  difficult,  and  the  lives  of 
other  people  unbearable!  I  know  of  one  of  these  worthies 
who  is  always  preaching  about  moral  restraint  between  the 
sexes,  and  who  is  a  great  advocate  of  temperance  as  well,  yet 
he  is  the  most  hypocritical  and  immoral  of  men.  His 
*  natural '  daughter,  wearing  the  clothes  he  has  purchased 
for  her,  walks  about  his  parish  quite  openly  and  unabashed, 
— goes  into  his  house  and  garden  when  his  wife  is  absent, 
and  amuses  herself  in  her  own  particular  fashion.  Every 
one  in  the  place,  down  to  the  very  schoolboys,  knows  who- 
and  what  she  is, — and  he  has  brought  himself  into  utter 
contempt — but, — his  Bishop  intends  to  promote  him  shortly! 
Have  you  ever  considered  the  singular  blindness  of  some: 

Bishops?  I  have; very  often!  Take  another  clerical 

example.  I  could  give  you  the  name  and  address  of  a  clergy- 
man so  parsimonious,  that  he  will  not  employ  a  sexton, — he 
rings  his  own  church  bell,  digs  the  graves,  and  herds  hisi 
cow  in  the  graveyard!  All  the  parishioners  have  ceased  ta 
attend  his  services,  and  they  tramp  to  a  church  four  miles 
distant  rather  than  go  near  him.  Does  the  Bishop  know? 


HOLY    ORDERS  329 

Oh  yes,  the  Bishop  knows.  But  it  is  too  much  trouble  for 
this  particular  Bishop  to  take  any  steps  in  the  matter.  One 
more  case  in  point, — name  and  address  likewise  at  your 
service, — that  of  the  rector  of  a  small  country  parish  who 
ior  a  certain  social  (and  financial)  consideration  flatly  dis- 
obeyed a  fixed  rule  of  the  Church,  for  which,  mark  you !  he 
received,  not  the  reproach  but  the  actual  approval  of  his 
Bishop ;  yet  this  fraud  of  a  '  Christian '  is  notoriously  known 
in  the  town  nearest  to  his  village  as  a  habitue  of  a  low  street 
where  women  sell  themselves  for  a  few  shillings,  and  where 
two  or  three  of  them  openly  boast  of  their  shameful  inti- 
macy with  this  '  dispenser  of  Gospel  Truth.'  Here  again, 
the  whole  town  knows,  and  the  Bishop  has  been  told — but 
the  Bishop  in  this  instance  elects  to  be  not  only  blind  but 
deaf,  for  rumor  asserts  that  this  cheap  adulterer,  masquerad- 
ing as  a  servant  of  Christ,  is  to  be  made  a  Canon.  Well ! — 
do  you  wonder  that  the  Church  is  sinking  into  the  quick- 
sands of  criminal  apathy  ?  When  '  society '  knows,  as  y»u 
will  know  shortly,  that  there  is  even  one  Bishop — only  one! 
— in  propria  persona — who  is  guilty  of  such  unnamable  sins 
as  should  cause  him  to  be  publicly  whipped  out  of  his  own 
Cathedral  doors,  and  that  notwithstanding  this,  he  is  allowed 
to  remain  on  in  his  high  office,  can  you  be  surprised  that  the 
laity  are  beginning  to  look  upon  the  ordained  exponents  of 
religion  with  suspicion,  if  not  with  absolute  contempt  ?  " 

"  But  these  cases  are  surely  exceptional," — said  Everton, 
in  grave,  pained  accents — "  There  are  black  sheep  in  every 
calling- " 

"  True! — but  I  do  not  go  about  looking  for  black  sheep, 
— my  aim  is  to  try  and  find  the  best  of  everything  in  human 
nature.  These  examples  of  the  clergy  have  been  thrust  upon 
me — I  have  not  sought  for  them.  I  have  been,  and  am, 
deeply  sorry  to  find  them.  But  that  they  exist  only  proves 
the  possible  existence  of  many  more  like  them.  And  most 
harmful  and  mischievous  of  all  perhaps  is  that  section  which 
seeks  to  '  leave  things  alone,'  and  which  entertains  the  sloth- 
ful idea  that  bold,  plain  speaking  in  the  cause  of  Christ  is  to 
be  deprecated  lest  it  make  matters  worse.  These  sort  of 
men  are  well-intentioned,  no  doubt,  but  the  front  they  pre- 
sent to  the  world  suggests  desire  for  personal  ease  rather  than 
personal  trouble." 


330  HOLY     ORDERS 

At  that  moment  peals  of  gay  laughter  echoed  out  from 
the  curtained  recess  where  the  guests  of  Claude  Ferrers  were 
being  entertained.  Everton  started,  fancying  he  heard  the 
rippling  laugh  of  Jacynth  ringing  above  the  rest. 

"  Personal  ease,"  went  on  Howard,  stirring  his  coffee 
leisurely,  and  now  and  then  lifting  his  keen  dark  eyes  to 
study  his  companion's  face — "  and  personal  pleasure  are  the 
two  chief  objects  of  modern  life.  The  luxury  of  our  present 
surroundings  bears  witness  to  the  fact.  The  people  in  there  " 
— and  he  indicated  by  a  gesture  the  Ferrers  party; — "care 
not  a  jot  whether  Christ  ever  lived  or  died.  And  such  are 
the  kind  of  folk  you  must  be  prepared  to  face  if  you  preach 
in  London.  Some  country  clerics  there  are  who  refuse  to 
admit  that  such  folk  exist.  I  know  an  excellent  man  down 
in  Somerset,  who  is  '  strictly  orthodox '  and  rules  his  house- 
hold, particularly  his  domestics,  with  a  rod  of  iron.  He  as- 
sured me  with  much  satisfaction  that  his  parishioners  knew 
nothing  of  the  wave  of  atheism  that  was  surging  over  Eu- 
rope, and  that  he  did  not  wish  them  to  know.  '  I  do  not 
allow  it,' — he  said.  He  supervises  the  literature  of  his 
parish,  and  flatters  himself  that  no  man,  woman  or  child 
ever  reads  anything  he  does  not  approve.  Never  was  there 
a  more  pathetic  case  of  blindness.  His  own  servants  take  in 
all  the  sensational  '  dailies '  on  the  sly,  and  there  is  not  a 
man  in  the  neighborhood  who  does  not  gloat  every  week 
over  a  certain  '  Sunday  Dreadful '  which  serves  up  all  the 
worst  police  cases  as  a  cook  serves  curry,  well-seasoned  and 
highly-flavored.  And  he,  the  innocent  good  man,  being  con- 
vinced that  his  '  little  flock '  live  in  a  state  of  primitive  in- 
nocence, declines  altogether  to  discuss  with  me  any  form  of 
the  heart-breaking  distress  from  which  half  the  world  is  suf- 
fering to-day, — the  doubt  of  God  which  makes  people  '  afraid 
to  think  ' — the  misery  and  terror  which  hang  suspended  over 
the  wretched  human  unit  deprived  of  faith  and  hope,  like 
the  sword  of  an  executioner,  '  for,'  says  he,  comfortably,  '  it 
is  better  to  ignore  it.'  Even  so  Louis  the  Sixteenth,  though 
an  honest  and  well-meaning  monarch,  ignored  his  people's 
discontent.  '  Is  it  a  riot? '  he  asked,  when  told  the  Bastille 
was  being  stormed  by  the  mob  of  Paris.  '  No,  Sire,'  he  was 
answered — '  It  is  a  Revolution ! '  You  can  apply  the  same 
words  to  the  Churches  of  to-day.  It  is  not  a  riot;  it  is  a 
revolution." 


HOLY    ORDERS  331 

Fascinated  by  his  even,  quiet  voice  and  the  ease  and  elo- 
quence with  which  he  spoke,  Everton  listened  with  deep  if 
sometimes  grieved  attention.  A  cultured  American  who 
can  talk  well  is  better  than  a  cultured  Englishman  who  can 
do  the  same,  for  the  American  is  less  restrained  by  conven- 
tion and  prejudice.  And  though  hating  to  be  forced  to 
admit  it,  he  knew  that  Howard  was  not  exaggerating  the 
abuses  prevalent  in  the  Churches  all  over  the  world,  but 
more  particularly  in  the  Church  of  England. 

"  I  wish  I  could  contradict  you," — he  said,  rather  sadly — 
"  But — to  be  honest — I  cannot !  The  clergy  are  losing  their 
hold  on  the  million;  the  million  are  trying  to  find  God  for 
themselves — and  I  cannot  blame  them.  The  flocks  are  astray 
because  of  the  sloth  of  their  shepherds.  I  am  afraid  this  is 
true.  Yet  I  must  say  I  have  not  met  such  flagrant  examples 
of  laxity  among  the  clergy  as  those  you  have  spoken  of — 
nor  do  I  know  of  any  Bishop  who  has  so  greatly  trans- 
gressed  " 

Howard  interrupted  him  by  a  slight  warning  gesture. 

"  Hush !  "  he  said — "  All  walls  have  ears,  especially  the 
walls  of  the  Savoy;  and  the  episcopal  lord  may  be  here  to- 
night for  all  we  know,  though  I  should  hardly  think  he 
would,  after  what  is  privately  known  of  him,  have  the 
temerity  to  show  himself  in  public.  Anyway,  he  is  far  more 
likely  to  be  at  dinner  than  at  prayers !  " 

Everton's  honest  blue  eyes  expressed  a  deep  concern  and 
bewilderment.  He  was  about  to  speak  when  fresh  peals  of 
ringing  laughter  from  the  curtained  recess  made  him  wince 
and  grow  pale.  Howard  saw  that  he  was  troubled, — and 
concluding  that  the  Savoy  sights  and  sounds  were  beginning 
to  chafe  and  irritate  his  mind,  took  pity  on  him. 

"Would  you  rather  go  now?"  he  asked — "Or  would 
you  care  for  another  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Nordstein,  made  doubly 
radiant  by  the  warm  glow  of  champagne  and  '  creme  de 
menthe'  in  her  veins?  People  say  she  is  at  her  loveliest 
after  dinner — and  that  when  most  over-fed  women  look  red- 
faced  and  greasy,  she  is  pale  as  a  pearl  and  cool  as  a  water- 
melon. By  the  way,  that's  her  husband,  Israel  Nordstein, 
just  coming  in." 

Everton  turned  his  head  quickly  and  saw  a  thin,  under- 
sized old  man  with  a  pallid,  wizened  face  and  gray  goatee 
beard,  advancing  slowly  into  the  room,  ushered  along  by  a 


332  HOLY,     ORDERS 

deferential  French  waiter  all  smiles,  bows  and  gesticula- 
tions, who  was  evidently  explaining  that  the  Ferrers  banquet 
was  in  a  private  room  apart  from  the  less  exclusive  crowd. 
Many  people  nudged  one  another  and  exchanged  awestruck 
whispers  as  the  notorious  Jew  millionaire  passed  by  their 
various  tables,  nodding  condescendingly  to  those  he  recog- 
nized, and  looking  about  him  quizzically  with  sharp  ferret 
eyes  that  sparkled  under  his  stiff  bushy  brows  like  bits  of 
cold  steel.  At  the  table  next  to  that  where  Everton  and 
Howard  sat,  he  stopped  and  laid  a  yellow,  veiny  hand  on 
the  shoulder  of  a  man  who  was  dining  with  a  pert-looking 
young  actress. 

"  Enjoying  yourself?  "  he  queried  in  a  rasping  voice  which 
struck  against  his  false  teeth  like  the  grating  of  a  saw; 
"That's  right!  But  don't  let  this  delightful  lady  "— 
here  he  bowed  to  the  actress  in  question  with  an  unpleasantly 
derisive  courtesy — "  keep  you  late  for  your  appointment 
with  me  to-morrow.  Some  one  in  the  city  told  me  you  were 
going  abroad,  but  I  should  not  advise  you  to  do  that ; 
no! 1  should  not  advise  it  at  this  time  of  the  year!  " 

He  stretched  his  thin  lips  in  a  wide  grin,  and  his  goatee 
beard  wagged  up  and  down  with  the  inward  movement  of 
his  silent  mirth.  The  man  he  spoke  to  answered  him  in 
sharp  haste  and  evident  irritation. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  going.     I've  changed  my  mind." 

"  I  thought  so ! "  and  Nordstein's  smile  was  wider  than 
before.  "  And  let  me  assure  you  that  you  do  well  to  change 
it!" 

With  that  he  went  on  to  the  corner  where  the  French 
Ganymede  stood  attentively  ready  for  him  near  the  velvet 
curtain  which  hid  the  Aero-Club  revels  from  outside  obser- 
vation. Raising  the  rich  drapery  with  an  impressive  ele- 
gance, the  waiter  held  it  up  as  though  it  were  an  arch  of 
triumph  for  the  redoubtable  man  of  millions  to  walk  under, 
— then  let  it  fall  softly  behind  him  like  a  conjurer  who  makes 
haste  to  conceal  the  stage  whereon  he  works  his  black  magic 
tricks  and  mysteries. 

Richard  Everton  had  watched  the  little  scene  with  morbid 
intentness.  He  tried  to  realize  that  this  old,  shrunken, 
wicked-eyed  Jew  was  the  husband  of  Jacynth ; — the  husband 
of  a  girl  of  twenty-one;  for  she  was  not  eighteen  when 


HOLY    ORDERS  333 

she  had  left  Shadbrook  four  years  ago, and  the  more  the 

fact  forced  itself  upon  him  the  stronger  grew  his  sense  of 
shame  that  such  a  thing  should  be.  A  feeling  of  revolt  and 

resentment  rose  up  in  him; his  whole  mental  and  moral 

being  was  jarred  into  sudden  discord.  The  brilliant  restau- 
rant with  its  throng  of  chattering,  laughing,  feeding  men 
and  women,  seemed  to  him  nothing  but  a  child's  kalei- 
doscope with  bits  of  colored  glass  that  changed  into  different 
patterns  with  each  slight  movement,  and  he  gave  a  quick 
involuntary  sigh  of  weariness.  He  glanced  expressively  at 
his  host. 

"Shall  we  go?"  said  he. 

"  By  all  means ! "  answered  Howard,  promptly. 

They  left  their  table  and  walked  slowly  together  through 
the  crowded  room.  They  were  both  tall,  well-built  men,  of 
a  finer  and  more  intellectual  type  than  common,  and  many 
people  stared  at  them  openly  in-  the  eminently  rude  British 
way  which  so  often  disfigures  British  manners.  Everton 
thought  he  heard  the  words  '  Another  millionaire ! '  as  How- 
ard passed  by  one  set  of  persons  who  were  dining  together 
near  the  doorway,  but  glancing  at  his  companion's  unmoved 
face,  he  concluded  his  ears  must  have  deceived  him.  At  the 
summit  of  the  wide  staircase  which  they  had  to  ascend  from 
the  dining-room  into  the  lounge,  a  foppishly-dressed  man 
stood  looking  down  at  them  with  a  vacuous  air  as  though  he 
were  peering  into  the  bottom  of  a  deep  well.  His  face  was 
of  a  sickly  white  hue,  and  a  foolish  smile  played  now  and 
then  on  his  loose  mouth  like  a  weak  flicker  from  an  expiring 
flame.  He  was  considerably  in  the  way  of  the  coming  and 
going  people,  and  once  or  twice  was  swayed  aside  by  their 
movements  as  though  he  were  too  helpless  for  personal  re- 
sistance. Just  as  Everton  and  Howard  passed  him  he  sud- 
denly lost  his  balance  and  toppled  over,  rolling  from  the  top 
of  the  stairs  to  the  bottom.  Everton  was  about  to  hurry  to 
his  assistance  when  Howard  pulled  him  back. 

"  Don't  interfere," — he  said — "  He's  drunk.  The  waiters 
will  see  to  him." 

"Drunk!"  echoed  Everton,  amazedly — "Here?  Not 
possible!  " 

"Quite  possible!  You  think  not,  because  he's  dressed 
like  a  gentleman  and  is  in  a  restaurant  which  ostensibly  caters 


334  HOLY     ORDERS 

for  gentlefolk.  But,  my  good  sir,  there's  as  much  occasional 
drunkenness  in  high-flying  places  of  this  sort  as  there  is  in 
the  lowest  public-house  slum.  See! — they've  picked  up  his 
lordship." 

"His  lordship?" 

"  Yes — he's  a  lord.  Quite  of  the  '  best  quality  '  " — and 
Howard  laughed  scornfully — "  He  went  over  to  the  States 
two  or  three  years  ago  on  the  prowl  after  a  pretty  little  Bos- 
ton girl,  an  only  child,  whose  father  will  leave  her  some 
millions.  She  had  a  romantic  idea  that  it  would  be  nice  to 
marry  into  an  old  '  historic '  English  family  and  be  called 
'  my  lady.'  But  after  seeing  this  chap  drunk  a  few  times 
she  altered  her  mind." 

"  Fortunately  for  herself !  "  commented  Everton. 

"  Quite  so !  Now  his  is  a  case  of  drink  where  Bal- 
four's  accusation  of  '  gross  criminal  self-indulgence  '  comes 
in  pat.  He  is  drunk,  not  through  one  sort  of  poison  but 
through  several  sorts,  mixed.  He  has  probably  taken  at  his 
one  meal,  sherry,  hock,  claret,  champagne,  port  and  liqueurs, 
finishing  up  with  two  or  three  whiskies.  That  is  the  frequent 
drink-routine  of  the  habitual  diner-out.  Naturally  complete 
intoxication  sets  in — I  was  going  to  say  bestial  intoxication, 
but  that  would  be  wronging  the  poor  beasts  who  never  get 
drunk.  And  this  man  is  only  one  of  many  more  of  his  class 
and  kind.  I  could  even  name  to  you  a  royal  prince  who 
never  goes  to  bed  sober." 

Everton  gave  a  gesture  of  pained  disgust. 

"  Spare  me !  "  he  said — "  For  if  those  who  are  set  in 
high  positions  as  '  leaders '  of  society  sink  so  low,  there  is 
little  hope  for  the  masses  who  have  no  leader  at  all.  And 
a  preacher  such  as  I  am  may  as  well  give  up  his  calling,  for 
he  can  never  be  more  than  a  voice  in  the  wilderness." 

"  A  voice  in  the  wilderness  was  the  herald  of  Christ," — 
replied  Howard — "We  mustn't  forget  that!  And  the 
'  masses ' — the  masses  of  Great  Britain,  are  the  finest  masses 
of  human  material  in  existence!  I  would  back  them  against 
the  whole  world; — yes,  though  I'm  an  American  I  would! 
There's  no  soldier  like  the  British  soldier — no  sailor  like  the 
British  sailor — anywhere  on  God's  earth !  And, — if  he  were 
given  the  proper  chance  of  training  and  experience  there's 
nothing  like  the  British  working-man.  He'll  beat  any  for- 


HOLY    ORDERS  335 

eigners  at  any  piece  of  work  if  he  can  only  be  saved  from 
the  licensed  curse  of  drink.  Now  shall  we  remain  here  a 
little? — or  shall  we  go  and  see  a  few  '  slum  '  sights?  " 

"  Slum  sights  are  fairly  familiar  to  me," — answered  Ever- 
ton,  "  I  worked  in  the  East  End  of  London  as  an  assistant 
curate  before  I  was  married,  and  saw  enough  there  to  break 
my  heart  if  it  had  not  been  too  full  of  faith  and  hope  then 
to  be  easily  broken " 

"  Then  ?  "  queried  Howard,  with  a  keen  glance  at  him ; 
"And now?" 

"  Well ! — now  it  is  broken !  "  he  answered  quietly, — "  But 
faith  and  hope  still  hold  the  broken  pieces  together." 

Howard  smiled — a  very  warm  and  kindly  smile. 

"  Come  along  then," — he  said — "  Come  out  of  this  luxuri- 
ous feeding-place  of  the  over-rich  Dives-folk  of  the  world, 
and  let  us  go  and  look  at  Lazarus  in  rags,  doing  his  best  to 
fight  starvation  and  misery.  The  struggle  against  poverty 
is  always  a  more  inspiring  sight  than  is  the  passive  acceptance 
of  needless  luxury.  You  don't  want  to  see  Claude  Ferrers 
again  or  his  '  Magic  Crystal '  ?  " 

A  slight  shadow  crossed  Everton's  face,  but  he  smiled 
coldly. 

"  No.     I  have  seen  enough  of  them  to-night." 

They  put  on  their  coats  and  left  the  restaurant,  and  for 
the  rest  of  the  evening  they  strolled  through  some  of  the 
many  purlieus  of  drink  and  poverty  lying  close  about  the 
Strand  and  Covent  Garden. 

"  This  place," — said  Howard,  indicating  a  small,  dingy 
street ;  "  was  the  scene  of  a  curious  riot  some  time  ago. 
Nearly  every  house  in  it  is  owned  by  Jews,  and  one  of  them, 
a  baker,  being  overpressed  with  work  against  time,  took  on 
three  Christian  assistants  to  help  him  turn  out  his  loaves. 
He  was  at  once  '  boycotted,'  and  gangs  of  Jews  paraded  in 
front  of  his  shop,  causing  the  greatest  obstruction  and  an- 
noyance, and  threatening  him  with  actual  bodily  violence 
because  he  had  employed  other  than  Jews.  Think  of  that  in 
*  free  '  England !  I  am  no  fanatical  Anti-Semite, — but  I 
should  be  intellectually  blind  if  I  did  not  see  that  Britain  is 
being  gradually  overrun  by  Jews,  in  society,  in  politics  and 
in  commerce, — and  that  the  marked  encouragement  of  Jews 
by  the  Throne  and  the  Press  is  going  in  time  to  prove  as 


336  HOLY    ORDERS 

serious  a  matter  as  the  question  of  the  negro  population  in 
America." 

"  I  deprecate  all  quarrels  between  sects," — said  Everton, 
quickly — "  Many  Jews  are  kinder  and  more  charitable  than 
Christians." 

"  In  certain  well-defined  and  well-advertised  cases,  yes,'* 
— agreed  his  companion  "But  in  the  aggregate  quantity, 
no.  The  grabbing  Christian  is  bad  enough,  but  the  grabbing 
Jew  is  twenty  times  worse.  Besides,  it  is  not  a  question  of 
sect — but  of  race.  Racial  differences  are  inextinguishable. 
The  lion  will  not  lie  down  with  the  lamb.  Take  Nordstein, 
for  example.  He  has  made  his  millions  by  the  most  un- 
scrupulous and  dishonorable  methods,  and  yet  there  is  no 
one  who  would  dare  to  expose  him.  One  of  his  numerous 
'  trades  '  is  the  Drama.  He  makes  or  mars  it — as  he  pleases 
— and  he  is  one  of  the  many  existing  causes  of  its  gradual 
decline." 

"  How  do  you  make  that  out  ?  "  asked  Everton,  interested. 

"  In  this  way.  He  owns  two  or  three  theaters,  in  fash- 
ionable quarters.  He  lets  these  to  certain  men  who  yearn  to 
air  themselves  as  '  actor-managers,'  on  easy  terms,  with  the 
private  understanding  that  whenever  he  chooses  to  put  a 
woman  on  the  boards  as  '  leading  lady,'  the  actor-managers 
must  take  her,  willy-nilly,  and  '  boom '  her  for  all  they  are 
worth.  She  may  not  have  an  ounce  of  talent, — that  doesn't 

matter '  anything  will  go  down  with  the  public  if  it's 

only  boomed  enough,'  thinks  the  Jew.  But  there  he  is  often 
mistaken.  The  public  are  getting  sick  of  having  the  dis- 
carded mistresses  of  wealthy  Semites  put  forward  for  their 
delectation  in  '  leading  '  histrionic  parts.  They  want  trained, 
capable  artistes, — not  cast-off  Delilahs.  But  it  was  in  this 
way  that  Nordstein  got  his  wife, —  she  was  first  his  mistress." 

They  were  walking  through  a  by-street,  badly  lit  and 
tortuous;  and  Everton's  face  was  in  shadow.  He  made  no 
remark,  and  Howard  went  on: — 

"  She  was  a  chorus  girl  in  a  musical  comedy,  and  she  had 
just  one  dance  to  herself  in  the  piece,  which  she  danced  with 
unusual  bravado.  And  her  beauty  attracted  the  ever-covetous 
Israel,  and  he  took  her  off  the  stage.  No  one  ever  expected 
him  to  marry  her; — but  he  did,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  sev- 


HOLY    ORDERS  337 

eral  fortune-hunting  young  women.  It  was  a  great  catch 
for  her." 

"  A  great  catch ! "  repeated  Everton,  his  voice  thrilling 
with  contempt — "  That  old,  feeble,  miserable-looking  crea- 
ture !  And  she  a  mere  girl !  " 

Howard  gave  him  a  quick  glance. 

"  The  '  mere  girl '  doesn't  exist  any  more," — he  said — 
"  She  wouldn't  have  a  chance  if  she  did.  Women  are  taught 
the  coldest  world-wisdom  in  their  schoolrooms  nowadays — 
and  even  the  minx  of  fourteen  is  aware  that  a  rich  marriage 
is  what  she  must  aim  at."  Here  he  stopped  in  his  walk. 
"Just  look  down  this  alley!" 

A  narrow  court  faced  them  from  which  all  manner  of 
sounds  and  smells  came  rushing  forth  like  able-bodied  roughs 
bent  on  choking  and  deafening  them  where  they  stood.  Cries 
of  children,  shrieking  laughter  of  women,  shouts  and  oaths 
of  men,  were  all  mingled  with  the  melancholy  grinding  of  a 
wheezy  hurdy-gurdy  which  was  being  played  somewhere 
round  a  further  corner,  and  from  the  murky  end  of  the  alley 
a  bright  flare  of  light  quivered  through  the  darkness,  inti- 
mating that  the  Drink-fiend  had  legitimate  abode  there,  and 
was  holding  his  usual  revels. 

"  I  happened  to  go  down  this  place  once  in  daytime," — 
said  Howard — "  on  a  visit  of  curiosity  and  inspection,  ac- 
companied by  a  police  officer  in  plain  clothes.  I  went  into 
one  of  the  wretched  tenement  houses,  where  there  was  a 
little  child  just  dead.  The  scene  was  one  of  indescribable 
misery  and  squalor ;  and  a  poor  tottering  old  crone,  who  evi- 
dently had  some  shreds  of  natural  feeling  left  in  her  starved 
soul,  was  putting  linen  round  the  little  corpse,  and  while  I 
was  there  she  laid  a  couple  of  pennies  on  the  eyelids  to  keep 
them  closed.  As  she  did  this,  another  woman  of  middle  age 
suddenly  started  up  from  a  corner  where  she  had  been 
crouching  like  an  animal  in  a  lair,  and  with  a  savage  cry  she 
snatched  the  coins  away  and  rushed  out  with  them  to  the 
public-house.  And — she  was  the  dead  child's  mother!  Will 
any  of  the  modern  '  poets,'  as  they  wrongfully  style  them- 
selves, write  me  that  tragedy  truly?  No!  They  will  not, 
because  it  is  too  vastly  beyond  them!  The  twentieth-cen- 
tury rhymers  write  of  their  own  petty  desires  and  disillusions, 


338  HOLY     ORDERS 

but  they  have  little  or  no  sympathy  with  the  continuous 
heartache  of  the  wider  world." 

They  turned  away  and  strolled  in  various  other  grimy 
and  poverty-stricken  quarters  of  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood, always  meeting  with  fresh  scenes  of  distress  and  hope- 
less abandonment  to  the  curse  of  drink.  In  the  midst  of  the 
foulest  slums  they  saw  the  large  and  handsome  gin-palaces, 
many  with  brilliant  dancing-saloons  attached,  where  such 
wild  orgies  are  nightly  carried  on  as  shame  the  '  civilization  ' 
of  the  age,  and  where  money  is  lavishly  laid  out  on  specious 
attractions  to  allure  the  young  and  unwary  into  a  vortex  of 
destruction. 

"  To  get  the  cash  back  that  has  been  spent  on  these  great 
buildings  which  exist  for  the  distribution  of  poisoned  beer 
and  alcohol,"  said  Howard — "  hundreds,  ay,  thousands  of 
men  and  women  must  drink  till  they  die!  Otherwise  there 
would  be  no  '  profits ' ;  and  the  brewing  and  distilling  com- 
panies would  not  be  able  to  feed,  like  carrion  crows,  on  the 
bodies  slain !  " 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  small  country  places  where 
the  magistrates,  as  far  as  the  granting  of  licenses  goes,  are 
mere  slavish  tools  in  the  hands  of  one  brewer?  "  asked  Ever- 
ton — "  I  could  name  you  a  town  where  there  are  public- 
houses  in  every  street,  and  each  one  of  those  public-houses  is 
'  tied  '  to  the  same  brewery.  Every  penny  is  made  by  the  one 
'  Trust '  concern, — a  '  Trust '  in  the  working-man's  ruin ! 
Should  any  publican  seek  to  trade  with  a  different  company, 
the  magistrates  *  cannot  see  their  way '  to  renew  his  license. 
There  is  a  Freemasons'  Lodge  in  the  town — but  the  chief 
business  of  its  '  freemasonry '  is  to  support  the  one  rascally 
brewer  on  the  gains  made  by  the  drunkenness  of  the  people, 
and  in  allowing  no  outside  competition." 

Howard  nodded  comprehensively. 

"  You  needn't  tell  me  anything  on  that  score," — he  said 
— "  I  know  the  devil's  whole  box  of  tricks !  Country  places 
are  the  happy  hunting-ground  of  the  pettiest  tyrants,  and 
mayors  and  corporations,  made  up  as  they  mostly  are  of  local 
tradesmen,  think  only  of  their  own  pockets  and  seldom 
try  to  serve  the  wider  interests  of  the  ratepayers.  But  what's 
to  be  done  ?  All  governing  bodies  become  '  parochial '  by 
degrees.  Even  the  House  of  Commons  itself  grows  less  and 


HOLY    ORDERS  339 

less  dignified  as  time  goes  on.  It  shows  a  tendency,  on 
occasion,  to  sink  to  the  vague  vituperative  condition  common 
to  old  washerwomen  at  the  tub's  edge.  And,  by  the  way, 
what  an  amount  of  casual  drinking  goes  on  among  the  mem- 
bers of  that  honorable  assembly!  In  the  midst  of  the  na- 
tion's business  too!  I  remember  being  present  once  in  the 
capacity  of  the  intelligent  stranger  at  an  interesting  debate 
one  evening,  and  I  certainly  came  away  with  the  impression 
that  whisky-soda  was  more  anxiously  sought  after  than  the 
national  welfare!  After  the  debate,  I  stood  in  the  lobby 
quarter  of  an  hour,  and  during  even  that  short  space  of  time 
five  men  severally  asked  me  to  join  them  in  swilling  their 
favorite  beverage.  When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  you  know, 
it's  not  quite  what  one  expects  from  the  makers  of  laws  for 
the  future  of  Great  Britain !  " 

At  that  moment  they  had  come  to  the  end  of  a  long  nar- 
row street  which  led  to  the  wider  thoroughfares,  and  the 
thunder  of  London's  restless  motion  and  unceasing  traffic 
sounded  on  their  ears  like  the  roar  of  an  angry  sea.  A  few 
yards  more  brought  them  into  Leicester  Square,  where  the 
flaring  front  of  the  Alhambra  Music  Hall  made  a  garish 
fire  against  the  overhead  darkness  of  the  night.  By  some 
instinctive  mutual  consent  they  both  paused. 

"  It  is  not  indeed  what  one  expects," — said  Everton, 
slowly,  answering  his  companion's  last  remark — "  It  is  the 
last  thing  one  should  look  for  or  ever  see  in  the  Government 

house  of  our  great  Empire.  And,- — if  we  look  yonder " 

here  he  pointed  to  the  center  of  the  square,  where  an  insig- 
nificant statue  of  Shakespeare  challenges  the  contempt  of 
every  intelligent  foreigner  for  its  inadequate  conception  of 
honor  to  the  world's  supremest  Genius, — "  there  is  the 
'  counterfeit  presentment '  of  our  country's  Greatest  Poet, 
who  said  of  our  country's  curse:  "  O  God,  that  men  should 
put  an  enemy  in  their  mouths  to  steal  away  their  brains !  " 

"  Ah,  that's  all  very  well !  "  and  Howard  began  to  laugh 
— "  But  have  you  ever  thought  that  your  very  Shakespeare 
himself,  so  far  as  associations  with  his  memory  in  his  own 
native  place  are  concerned,  is  literally  soaked  in  Beer? 
Soaked! — why,  yes,  I  should  think  he's  just  pretty  well 
drowned  in  it !  His  townsmen  serve  him  up  to  you  like  a  bit 
of  toast  in  a  gallon  of  ale! "  Here  he  threw  back  his  head 


340  HOLY*  ORDERS 

and  his  laughter  rang  out  heartily.  "  I  don't  speak  without 
knowledge,  for,  of  course,  like  all  good  Americans,  I've  been 
to  Stratford-on-Avon.  The  first  thing  I  heard  there  from  a 
small  boy  who  was  '  touting '  as  a  guide  to  the  different 
places  of  interest,  was  that  '  Shakespeare  got  droonk  at  Bid- 
ford.'  When  I  had  recovered  from  this  dizzying  shock,  I 
was  hit  in  the  eye  by  the  spectacle  of  a  bizarre  theater  on 
the  banks  of  the  classic  Avon,  as  inartistic  a  pile  of  bricks  as 
ever  I  beheld,  and  I  was  told  it  had  been  built  by  a  brewer 
as  a  '  memorial '  to  Shakespeare.  Then  I  grasped  the  archi- 
tectural design,  of  course, — which  is  that  of  a  glorified  brew- 
ery, round  vat  and  all  complete.  I  likewise  learned  that  the 
said  brewer  had  edited  a  version  of  the  Immortal  Plays,  with 
all  the  bits  he  considered  '  naughty '  cut  out !  Can  you 
realize  this  impertinence  of  Beer  made  paramount!  But 
that's  not  all.  A  brewer  '  manages '  the  so-called  '  national  * 
Trust  of  the  Bard's  own  birthplace — never  was  there  any- 
thing '  national '  so  purely  petty  and  parochial ! — and  actu- 
ally uses  the  design  of  the  bust  over  the  historic  grave  in 
the  church  as  a  '  trade  mark '  on  the  label  of  his  beer- 
bottles  !  Poor  '  Gentle  Willy ' !  A  beery  fate  pursues 
his  noble  ghost,  and  I  have  sometimes  thought  the  inscrip- 
tion on  his  tombstone  ought  to  read  thus: — 

" '  Good   Frende,  for  Jesus'  sake  forbear 
To  mix  mine  ashes  up  \vith  Beer, — 
Blest  be  ye  man  who  spares  my  fame, 
And  curst  be  traders  in  my  name ! ' " 

He  recited  this  with  mock-tragic  emphasis,  and  contin- 
ued:— 

"  A  positive  fume  of  beer  enshrouds  every  personal  asso- 
ciation with  his  memory — for  a  brewer  is  to  put  a  window 
in  the  church  where  his  remains  are  buried,  immediately 
above  the  register  of  his  birth  and  death, — and  as  if  all  this 
were  not  enough,  a  Brewery  stands  on  the  site  of  his  famous 
'  Globe '  theater  in  Southwark !  The  thing  is  almost  more 
than  ludicrous.  It  seems  as  if  the  Muses  were  mocking  at 
England,  and  asking  derisively:  'Which  do  you  prefer? 
Your  Greatest  Man,  or  Beer?  If  you  can't  make  up  your 
heavy,  boorish  mind, — here ! — take  them  both  together ! '  We 


HOLY    ORDERS  341 

'  pushful '  Americans,  as  we  are  sometimes  called,  often  make 
errors  of  taste,  owing  to  our  nation's  youth  and  inexperience, 
but  if  Shakespeare  had  been  born  in  our  country,  we  should 
have  honored  his  memory  more  sacredly  in  his  own  native 
place  at  least  than  to  have  turned  him  into  a  Beer-advertise- 
ment !  We  should  have  tried  to  separate  the  nation's  greatest 
Poet  from  all  connection  with  the  nation's  greatest  shame — 
Drink.  And  what  a  statue  is  this  in  Leicester  Square!  Like 
a  shop-walker  meditating  on  an  error  in  a  bill !  " 

He  gave  a  half-contemptuous,  half-indignant  gesture,  and 
added : 

"  Let's  come  out  of  this !  Shakespeare  and  the  Alhambra 
do  not  '  couple  '  well !  " 

"  Almost  as  badly  as  Shakespeare  and  Beer !  "  said  Ever- 
ton,  with  a  smile. 

"  Almost !  But  not  quite.  For  the  idea  of  attaching  the 
native  and  intimate  associations  of  the  world's  highest  brain 
to  the  world's  lowest  vice  seems  to  me  to  be  one  that  should 
not  be  tolerated  patiently  by  any  self-respecting  nation.  But 
you  British  are  a  queer  people!  Shakespeare's  own  criticism 
of  you,  through  the  mouth  of  his  '  grave-digger '  in  Hamlet, 
when  alluding  to  the  soul-sick  prince's  having  been  sent  into 
England  because  he  was  mad,  fits  you  all  up  to  the  present 
day.  '  A'  shall  recover  his  wits  there,  or  if  a'  do  not  'tis  no 
great  matter  there — 'twill  not  be  seen  in  him  there, — there 
the  men  are  as  mad  as  he ! ' 

"  There's  a  good  deal  of  truth  in  that," — said  Everton — 
"  We  are  really  an  erratic  people.  We  have  the  reputation 
of  being  stolid  and  phlegmatic,  full  of  sound  reason  and  com- 
mon sense, — whereas  the  real  truth  is  that  we  are  very  im- 
pulsive, credulous,  sentimental,  and  easily  led  away  like 
children  by  the  rumor  of  anything  strange,  monstrous,  fool- 
ish and  fantastical.  The  blind  and  stupid  ease  with  which 
we  swallow  the  lies  of  the  modern  press,  prove  this  up  to 
the  hilt.  We  do  not  greatly  appreciate  our  great  men, — and 
by  this  I  mean  that  we  would  not  go  out  of  our  way  to  help 
them  or  make  them  happier  while  they  are  yet  living  among 
us.  When  they  are  dead  we  make  just  as  much  ado  as  may 
enable  us  to  hold  on  to  the  tag-end  of  their  spiritual  royal 
robes  ere  they  are  swept  away  from  us  into  the  larger  life,—- 
but  if  they  were  to  come  back  suddenly,  materialized  again 


342  HOLY     ORDERS 

into  human  form,  and  ask  us  for  the  loan  of  ten  pounds,  we 
would  not  give  it  to  them !  Think  of  Robert  Burns !  Think 
of  the  oceans  of  whisky  that  have  been  drunk  to  his  memory 
since  he  died!  And  when  he  was  alive  he  had  to  humbly 
ask  his  cousin  James  Burness  for  money!  There  is  some- 
thing horribly  pathetic  in  the  appeal :  '  O  James,  did  you 
know  the  pride  of  my  heart  you  would  feel  doubly  for  me ! 
Alas,  I  am  not  used  to  beg ! '  And  I'm  sure  that  if  the 
unhappy,  gifted  fellow  were  to  return  among  us  to-morrow 
his  experience  would  be  the  same, — and  that  not  one  of  all 
his  whisky-drinking  admirers  would  find  so  much  as  five 
pounds  ready  to  give  him.  Why,  even  a  kind  word  might 
be  grudged  to  him, — for  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  how 
many  lonely  writers  there  must  be  who  would  be  grateful 
for  a  kind  word  from  their  contemporaries,  and  they  never 
get  it  unless  they  belong  to  a  '  clique,'  sworn  to  '  boom  ' 
each  other." 

"  That's  a  fact," — said  Howard — "  And  in  your  literary 
sections  over  here  you  have  a  certain  overpowering  and  of- 
fensive dilettantism  which  makes  it  a  rule  to  sneer  at  every- 
thing which  is  '  popular.'  And  yet  who  in  Heaven's  name 
is  more  '  popular '  than  Shakespeare  ?  Did  he  not  '  play  to 
the  gallery '  ?  Of  course  he  did, — he  depended  on  the  gal- 
lery for  support.  He  used  old  and  '  popular '  stories,  fa- 
vorites with  the  '  common  '  folk,  as  the  groundwork  of  his 
plays,  and  upon  them  strung  his  jewels  of  poesy  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  '  common  '  public.  He  never  thought  himself  a 
genius,  and  never  anticipated  that  the  '  literary  critic  '  would 
follow  humbly  in  the  wake  of  '  popular  '  applause,  and  crouch 
at  his  footstool  for  all  time!  Nowadays  we  talk  of  him  as 
we  do  of  all  our  dead  martyrs  in  the  service  of  art  and  litera- 
ture, as  a  kind  of  demigod  whom  it  needs  '  high  culture  ' 
to  appreciate, — but  he  himself  never  wrote  specially  for 
highly-cultured  persons — only  for  the  '  vulgar '  British 
masses.  Fortunately  there  was  then  no  cheap  press  on  which 
jejune  youths  were  employed  at  five  or  ten  shillings  a  col- 
umn to  sneer  down  their  betters, — but  nowadays  the  '  great ' 
poet,  so  admitted  by  the  literary  cliques,  is  he  who  has  but- 
tered the  fingers  of  a  friend  to  'boom'  him;  while  the 
'  great '  novelist  on  the  same  lines  is  the  person  who  writes  a 
sexual  and  sensual  book  unfit  for  decent-minded  men  and 


HOLY    ORDERS  343 

women  to  read,  and  is  therefore  the  'literary'  star  of  the 
carnal-minded  section  of  the  '  Upper  Ten.'  By  the  way, 
who  '  boomed  '  you?  " 

They  were  nearing  their  hotel  by  this  time,  and  Everton 
stopped  in  sheer  amaze. 

"  Boomed  me!"  he  echoed—"  Why,  no  one!  " 

Howard  looked  at  him  with  a  quizzical,  half-laughing 
expression. 

"Oh,  come,  come!"  he  said; — "That  won't  do!  No 
clergyman  can  get  his  sermons  reported  in  the  extensive  way 
yours  have  been,  unless  he's  friends, — and  particular  friends 
too! — with  the  press." 

The  quick  blood  flushed  to  Everton's  brows  with  a  sense 
of  something  like  indignation. 

"  I  assure  you,"  he  declared  warmly, — "  I  do  not  know  a 
soul  connected  with  any  newspaper  whatever!" 

Howard  gave  a  slight  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

"  Well !  Then  all  I  can  say  is  that  some  one  is  working 
you  on  without  your  knowledge.  There's  a  hand  behind  the 
scenes  somewhere.  Everything  you  say  is  reported  in  several 
of  the  leading  papers  at  more  or  less  length — and  do  you 
suppose  that  could  be  done  without  money  or  private  in- 
fluence?" 

This  suggestion  took  Everton  completely  by  surprise. 

"  Do  you  really  think," — he  began 

"  Do  I  really  think  you  have  a  friend  at  court  ?  "  said 

Howard,  good-humoredly "Why  of  course  I  do!     No 

one, — neither  author,  preacher  nor  hero,  gets  a  whole  column 
of  '  boom '  unless  he  pays  for  it,  or  is  a  friend  of  newspaper 
proprietors.  Mute  inglorious  Miltons  remain  mute  and  in- 
glorious except  when  they  chance  to  please  the  '  vulgar '  pub- 
lic. But  you  are  not  sufficiently  known  to  this  vulgar  public 
yet,  to  create  such  a  stir  as  has  been  made  for  you!  I  am 
sure  you  quite  deserve  it, — still  there  is  evidently  some  one 
who  knows  your  merits  and  has  the  power  to  bring  them 
into  recognition." 

Everton  was  silent  because  he  could  find  nothing  to  say. 
He  was  vaguely  annoyed  and  bewildered.  He  had  thought 
that  such  notices  as  he  had  received  in  the  press  had  been 
solely  because  something  he  had  said  in  his  sermon  had  ap- 
pealed to  his  hearers,  and  from  them  to  the  wider  world. 


344  HOLY     ORDERS 

Now, — if  such  a  thing  were  possible,  or  could  be  probable, 
that  some  unknown  influence  was  at  work  to  bring  himself 
and  his  preaching  into  prominence,  why  then  it  was  no  more 
than  a  '  worked-up  '  fame, — a  fictitious  interest  in  him  which 
would  cease  the  moment  the  '  boom '  dropped.  All  sorts  of 
conflicting  emotions  stirred  in  him,  and  his  face  showed  the 
troubled  tenor  of  his  thoughts.  Howard  glanced  at  him  cu- 
riously once  or  twice, — then  said,  kindly: — 

"  Don't  take  me  too  seriously,  Mr.  Everton !  I  may  be 
quite  wrong.  I  only  form  my  judgment  on  the  facts  of 
modern  newspaper  management  as  presented  to  me  by  ex- 
perience. I  came  over  here  five  or  six  years  ago  on  business 
connected  with  the  purchase  of  a  certain  influential  journal, 
— I  am  fairly  wealthy,  and  I  was  asked  to  help  re-float  the 
thing.  Well! — I  learned  a  good  deal, — much  that  I  was 
both  ashamed  and  sorry  to  know.  Anyhow,  I  decided  not  to 
put  my  money  into  the  dirty  work  of  a  newspaper  '  trust.' 
For  I  found  that  in  this  kind  of  commercial  news-monger- 
ing  concerns,  no  real  justice  for  the  people  is  advocated,  but 
only  the  interests  of  '  party  '  on  the  chance  of  personal  emolu- 
ment. Also,  that  no  author,  artist  or  actor  is  highly  praised 
or  recommended  unless  through  some  sort  of  '  pay '  or  pri- 
vate influence; — and  I  imagine  the  same  rule  must  apply 
to  preachers; — but  as  I  say,  I  may  be  entirely  wrong " 

"  I  think nay,  I  am  sure  you  are !  "  said    Everton, 

earnestly, — "  At  any  rate  I  hope  you  are.  Such  praise  as  has 
been  bestowed  on  me  by  the  press,  would  be  not  only  value- 
less but  actually  offensive  to  my  mind  if  I  thought  it  was  not 
genuine, — and  as  for  '  pay '  or  '  influence,'  neither  I  nor 
any  of  the  friends  I  have  could  use  either." 

"  Well,  if  there's  anything  at  the  bottom  of  it  all  you're 
sure  to  find  it  out," — said  Howard ; — "  I  suppose  your  ser- 
mon of  to-morrow  will  be  reported  ?  " 

"  As  an  assistance  to  the  charity  for  which  it  pleads,  I 
suppose  it  will," — answered  Everton ; — "  But  for  no  other 
reason." 

"What  is  your  text?" 

"  A  very  familiar  one, — '  The  poor  ye  have  always  with 
you; — but  Me  ye  have  not  always.'  I  think  my  arguments 
deal  chiefly  with  the  latter  half  of  the  saying." 

Me  ye  have  not  always ! '  Ah !    One  is  almost  tempted 


HOLY    ORDERS  345 

to  alter  the  words  to  '  Me  ye  have  not  at  all '  nowadays," — 
said  Howard ; — "  But  in  what  way  do  you  propose  to  move 
a  London  congregation  to  such  a  conviction?  Rustic  folk 
are  easily  persuaded; — but  the  people, — especially  the  fash- 
ionable people, — of  this  giant  metropolis  are  of  more  stub- 
born material." 

"  There  I  don't  agree  with  you !  " — and  Everton  laughed 
a  little, — "  Rustic  folk  are  among  the  most  obstinate  of 
human  beings.  I  think  it  would  be  easier  to  move  the  emo- 
tions of  a  London  club  lounger  than  those  of  a  Cotswold 
farmer!  But  so  far  as  my  sermon  may  lead  me  to-morrow, 
I  am  not  anxious  to  force  any  conviction  on  any  one.  I 
merely  want  to  show,  if  I  can,  that  the  giving  of  alms  with- 
out the  '  Me,'  or  the  Spirit  of  Christ  in  the  gift,  is  not  true 
generosity.  The  majority  of  people  are  proverbially  un- 
grateful for  every  kind  of  assistance  because  it  needs  a  great 
nature  to  acknowledge  great  benefit, — but  what  I  would 
seek  to  teach  is  that  if  you  give  at  all,  have  Christ  with  you 
in  the  giving,  and  then  ingratitude  cannot  hurt  you.  For  I 
am  sure  that  the  Christ-intention  to  do  good  is  bound  to 
work  out  to  noble  issues.  It  is  the  '  Me  you  have  not  al- 
ways* that  makes  the  difference  between  mere  alms-giving 
without  heart,  and  real  charity." 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  their  hotel,  and  entering 
it  they  said  good-night  to  each  other.  As  Everton  held  out 
his  hand,  Howard  detained  it  a  moment  in  an  extra-cordial 
pressure. 

"  You  must  forgive  me,"  he  said,  "  for  having  bored  you 
with  my  talk! — but  I've  wanted  some  one  to  '  pour  out '  to 
for  ever  so  long!  Most  Americans  talk  too  much,  and  I'm 
not  exempt  from  my  countrymen's  little  failing.  I  think 
you  English  talk  too  little; — but  that's  a  matter  of  opinion. 
Anyhow,  what  I  want  to  say  just  now  is  that  I've  taken  a 
great  liking  to  you,  and  that  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you 
at  any  time  I  hope  you'll  command  me.  You  may  have  some 
scheme  for  the  betterment  of  your  parish, — some  plan  for 
improving  the  general  condition  of  poor  humanity,"  and 
he  laughed ; — "  and  if  you  have,  do  me  the  favor  of  letting 
me  help  you.  I  have  plenty  of  money  I  don't  want  for  my- 
self— that  would  be  a  tempting  bait  to  most  clergymen j — 
but  it  won't  be  to  you, — you're  too  straight.  You'll  just 


346  HOLY.     ORDERS 

tell  me  when  you  need  something  done  and  you'll  find  me  on 
the  square !  " 

Everton  was  surprised  and  touched. 

"  It's  very  good  of  you," — he  began, — but  Howard  inter- 
rupted him. 

"  No,  it  isn't ! "  he  declared,  with  a  whimsical  sparkle  in 

his  eyes; — "  It  isn't  *  good'  of  me it  is  simply  agreeable 

to  me.  A  mere  form  of  selfish  indulgence,  I  assure  you! 
Good-night!" 

He  went  then  to  his  room, — and  Everton  soon  followed 
his  example.  Alone,  with  the  roar  of  London  still  making 
muffled  thunder  on  his  ears  though  the  hour  was  so  late, 
he  stood  looking  through  the  dingy  panes  of  his  window 
at  two  or  three  faintly  twinkling  stars  that  could  just  be  seen 
between  the  dividing  lines  of  a  stack  of  tall  chimneys  oppo- 
site, and  he  thought  of  his  own  quiet  Vicarage  with  its  old- 
world  garden, — of  the  little  church  with  its  square  ivied 
tower,  and  the  grassy  flower-strewn  plot  where  his  murdered 
wife  Azalea  lay,  mingling  her  delicate  dust  with  the  creative 
elements  of  Mother  Earth,  who  so  quickly  changes  what 
we  call  death  into  other  forms  of  life ; — and  it  seemed  to  him 
as  if  a  kind  of  epoch  had  rolled  away  since  he  had  left  Shad- 
brook  that  morning.  Was  it  possible  that  he  had  only  been 
one  day  in  London? — nay,  barely  more  than  half  of  one  day? 
Why,  it  was  an  age! — an  age  since  the  garden-gate  of  his 
country  home  had  swung  behind  him,  shutting  away  the 
lovely  quiet  of  fair  lawns  and  full-foliaged  trees, — so  much 
had  happened  since  then, — he  had  seen  so  much, — heard  so 
much, — and  suffered  so  much !  Suffered  ?  Ay,  with  a  poign- 
ancy incredible,  though  the  agony  was  nothing  more  than 
the  compression  of  a  few  facts  into  a  few  sentences  uttered 
casually  by  a  stranger.  Why  should  he  wince  at  it?  What 
did  it  all  amount  to?  Only  this; — that  all  the  pain  and 
doubt  and  despair  of  good  that  had  gripped  his  soul  as  it 
were  in  the  clutches  of  devils  when  his  wife  had  been  brought 
home  to  him  slain  by  Dan  Kiernan,  had  returned  in  full 
force  upon  him  now  with  the  knowledge  that  Jacynth  was 
alive  and  prospering.  Somehow  he  had  sub-consciously 
imagined  her  going  from  bad  to  worse, — becoming  perhaps 
a  frequenter  of  such  gin-palaces  as  he  had  seen  that  night, 
and  inhabiting  a  room  in  one  of  those  wretched  slums.  He 


HOLY    ORDERS  347 

had  never  thought  to  see  her  as  a  wealthy  woman,  with  jew- 
els flashing  on  her  breast,  and  the  world  of  fashion  gaping 
greedily  upon  her  beauty.  It  was  not  fair,  he  told  himself 
angrily,  that  she  should  be  thus  full  of  pride  and  vitality, 
while  the  innocent  Azalea  lay  dead, — murdered,  as  surely 
through  her  as  by  Dan  Kiernan.  And  he  thought  of  a 

phrase  in  the  book  of  a  modern  author, a  phrase  which 

when  he  had  first  read  it,  had  shocked  and  grieved  him; 
'  the  dreadful  mind  of  God.'  He  had  considered  such  an 

expression  blasphemous and  yet was    it    not    true? 

'  The  dreadful  mind  of  God ! '  Surely  it  was  a  dreadful 
mind,  if  it  could  so  give  pre-eminence  to  evil,  and  doom  in- 
nocence to  destruction!  The  vision  of  Jacynth  as  she  had 
entered  the  Savoy  dining-room  that  night,  radiant,  self-pos- 
sessed, smiling,  supreme  in  her  beauty  and  egotism,  flashed 
before  him  as  though  it  were  a  mirage-picture,  sketched  in 
summer  lightning.  She  had  recognized  him, — of  that  he 
felt  sure.  She  had  recognized  him  as  quickly  and  as  posi- 
tively as  he  had  recognized  her.  Her  dark  luminous  eyes 
had  challenged  his  scrutiny, — had  dumbly  but  insistently 
commanded  his  silence  as  to  her  past.  Even  now,  in  the  soli- 
tude that  environed  him,  he  could  see  those  eyes, — could  feel 
their  haunting,  passionate  dominance.  The  idea  that  they 
mysteriously  followed  him  and  looked  at  him  steadfastly  like 
stars  shining  out  of  the  misty  air,  stung  him  with  an  angry 
sense  of  helplessness; — and  full  of  strange  wrath  and  pain, 
with  a  spirit  rising  up  in  indignant  protest  at  what  seemed 
to  be  the  unequitableness  of  Divine  equity,  he  suddenly  threw 
himself  upon  his  knees  and  prayed  with  all  his  heart  and  soul 
that  he  might  never  meet  her  again!  Never,  never!  For 
so  it  would  be  best! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  CHURCH,  crowded  with  ultra-fashionable  people,  is, 
-«\in  the  minds  of  a  few  thinkers,  always  a  curious  anomaly. 
It  is  called  the  *  House  of  God,'  and  in  certain  forms  of 
faith  there  are  priests  who  affirm  that  God  Himself,  the 
Creator  of  Heaven  and  Earth,  is  personally  present  in  the 
compressed  form  of  a  consecrated  wafer.  If  this  fantastic 
and  superstitious  theory  finds  actual  acceptance  with  sane 
persons,  is  it  not  rather  wonderful  that  in  this  '  Presence ' 
of  God,  men  and  women  are  so  indifferent,  irreverent  and 
callous  as  they,  for  the  most  part,  show  themselves  to  be 
during  any  and  every  sort  of  Divine  worship?  For  even 
where  no  eccentric  inventions  of  the  priesthood  are  in  vogue, 
— where  the  ritual  is  simply  one  of  prayer  and  praise  to  that 
Almighty  Power  whose  eternal  force  projects  the  life-cur- 
rents through  interminable  oceans  of  space  wherein  great 
planetary  systems,  like  golden  argosies,  sail  on  their  glorious 
voyages  to  pre-determined  ports  of  wider  splendor,  is  it  not 
amazing,  even  appalling,  that  a  crowd  of  human  units,  whose 
lives  hang  on  the  finest  hairs  of  circumstance,  should  gather 
together  in  a  building  for  the  ostensible  purpose  of  acknowl- 
edging their  '  manifold  sins  and  wickedness,'  in  the  presence, 
— mark  you ! — in  the  '  Presence  '  of  this  Supreme  Omnipo- 
tence, and  should  show  themselves  less  conscious  of  Divine 
nearness  than  they  do  of  their  neighbors'  looks  and  clothing? 
Are  they  humble?  Repentant?  Modest  in  bearing?  Not 
they!  Nothing  perhaps  in  all  our  various  mockeries  of 
true  religion  can  equal  the  ridiculous  arrogance,  the  pitiable 
conceit  of  Church  congregations  in  fashionable  quarters  of 
London,  where  the  women  rustle  up  to  their  seats  arrayed 
in  all  the  newest  modes,  casting  glances  of  envy  or  scorn  at 
one  another, — where  the  men,  not  troubling  to  kneel  lest 
their  trousers  should  grow  '  baggy,'  say  what  they  dare  to 
call  a  prayer  in  the  crowns  of  their  hats  to  the  God  they  thus 
impudently  deride; — and  where  the  pretentious  show  of 
mere  mannerism  is  trebly  enhanced  when  the  church  is  one 

348 


HOLY    ORDERS  349 

of  those  known  as  '  high,' — and  ornate  ceremonial  assists  the 
general  aspect  of  the  over-dressed,  self-conscious  throng.  For 
then  the  priests,  as  well  as  the  people,  attitudinize  and  make 
dumb  mimicry  of  the  awful  things  of  life  and  death, — then 
they,  too,  play  like  children  with  the  danger-signals  of  the 
universe  and  invite  disaster  on  the  soul, — then  they,  too, 
make  show  of  dress  and  ornament,  and  mince  and  simper  be- 
fore the  altar  like  tawdry  puppets  on  a  stage  playing  for 
money  and  applause,  forgetful  that  while  Truth  may  be 
called  the  very  blood  and  being  of  God,  Falsehood,  as  op- 
posed to  the  spirit  of  Eternal  Law,  contains  within  itself 
the  destruction  of  every  fabric,  religious  or  social,  that  it 
attempts  to  build  on  its  own  quicksands  of  sham. 

It  was  in  one  of  these  highest  of  '  High  Anglican  '  churches 
that  Everton  found  himself  called  upon  to  preach  on  the 
Sunday  morning  following  his  arrival  in  London,  and  all 
through  the  service,  which  was  little  less  than  Roman  Catho- 
lic in  its  character,  he  was  full  of  a  silent,  deeply-repressed 
but  all  the  more  poignant  regret,  shame  and  sorrow.  It  was 
not  that  he  was  in  any  way  fanatically  prejudiced  against 
the  Roman  Catholic  faith; — on  the  contrary,  should  it  have 
chanced  that  he  had  been  born  and  brought  up  in  that  faith, 
his  very  temperament  would  probably  have  made  him  one  of 
its  most  devoted  adherents.  He  would  have  obeyed  the  laws 
of  his  Church  to  the  letter,  and  would  never  have  known 
what  it  was  to  enjoy  '  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  free.'  But, 
being  what  he  was,  he  could  not  understand  how  thinking, 
reasonable  men,  having  once  cast  off  the  yoke  of  mere  heathen 
superstition,  and  having  begun  to  learn  some  of  the  mag- 
nificent scientific  Facts  of  the  Divine  Cosmos,  could  willfully 
return  again  to  the  slavery  of  the  dark  ages  with  their  pagan 
rites  and  ceremonials,  all  of  which  show  as  barbaric  tawdri- 
ness  when  compared  with  the  pure  and  quiet  spirit  of  simple 
piety. 

"  If  this  were  a  Roman  Catholic  Church,"  he  thought, — 
"  I  should  feel  nothing  but  compassionate  respect  for  all  who 
were  engaged  in  performing  their  devotions  according  to  the 
measure  of  their  intellectual  capabilities ;  but  when  I  know  it 
is  the  *  Church  of  England  '  professing  to  teach  the  '  re- 
formed '  faith  which  our  forefathers  died  to  hand  down  to 
us,  together  with  the  watchword  'The  Open  Bible,' — I 


350  HOLY     ORDERS 

cannot  but  wonder  what  my  fellow-clergy  are  about  that 
they  so  deliberately  falsify  their  mission!  And  the  Bishops 
and  the  Archbishops!  Why  do  they  remain  inert?  To 
whom  are  they  truckling?  To  Rome?  To  'principalities 
and  powers '  ?  To  themselves  and  their  own  love  of  au- 
thority? One  thing  is  certain, — they  are  not  obeying 
Christ ; — and  with  disobedience  must  come  downfall !  " 

And  he  was  so  full  of  perplexity  and  pain  that  when  the 
time  came  for  him  to  preach  he  ascended  the  pulpit  like  a 
man  in  a  dream,  looking  down  on  the  sea  of  faces  and  up- 
turned eyes  as  part  of  the  shifting  and  uncertain  glamour  of 
a  vision  briefly  presented  and  soon  to  vanish  in  nothingness. 
He  was  unconscious  of  the  ripple  of  interest  that  ran 
through  the  crowded  congregation  as  he  appeared, — he  could 
not  hear  the  many  whispers  cautiously  exchanged  between 
various  persons  such  as: — "That's  the  man  whose  wife  was 
murdered."  "Oh  really!"  "I  suppose  she  had  a  lover?" 
"  Oh  dear  no! — She  was  killed  by  a  drunken  laborer, — 
you  see,  he's  a  temperance  preacher."  "  You  don't  say  so ! 
There  must  have  been  some  reason  for  the  murder?"  "  No 
— just  the  drink, — a  sort  of  revenge  on  a  temperance  man." 
"  Hope  he  isn't  going  to  preach  temperance  to-day?  "  "  No 
— that  isn't  his  subject — hush-sh-sh !  " 

And  every  one  settled  down  into  decorous  silence  as  Ev- 
erton's  mellow  voice  rang  out  over  their  heads  with  a  clear 
penetrative  tone  so  unlike  the  affected  drawl  of  most  preach- 
ers, that  of  itself  alone  it  roused  and  arrested  immediate  at- 
tentien.  Unlike  most  preachers,  too,  was  Everton  himself, 
with  his  pale  fine  face,  earnest  eyes  and  rapt  expression; — 
and  before  he  had  spoken  for  five  minutes  the  whole  worldly, 
egotistical  crowd  was  moved,  if  not  to  actual  interest,  to  ex- 
treme curiosity.  He  was  '  something  new  ' ; — something  of 

which  they  had  latterly  lost  the  knowledge, something 

real  in  eloquence,  grace  and  inspiration.  And  they  listened ; 
— amazed,  if  not  impressed.  Here  was  a  country  parson, — 
a  stranger  to  London  congregations, — whose  life,  so  it  was 
said,  had  been  clouded  by  a  terrible  tragedy, — who  was  Vicar 
of  a  very  small  parish  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  Cotswolds, 
and  who,  till  the  murder  of  his  wife  by  an  irresponsible 
drunkard,  had  been  absolutely  unknown, — here  was  this  very 
man  preaching  to  a  large  section  of  wealthy  and  exclusive 


HOLY    ORDERS  351 

London  society  with  an  ease,  an  elegance,  a  beauty  of  phras- 
ing and  a  boldness  of  purpose  such  as  had  not  been  heard  for 
many  a  long  day  in  that  church  or  any  other.  It  was  under- 
stood that  '  Royalty '  in  the  shape  of  a  German  Princess  of 
that  or  this  other  '  Hofsburger '  was  present,  and  the  glances 
of  such  toadies  and  time-servers  as  bow  to  the  very  smell  of 
royal  boots,  were,  for  a  while,  furtively  turned  on  a  stout, 
unprepossessing  lady  who  occupied  a  seat  immediately  oppo- 
site the  pulpit; — but  presently  as  the  stout  lady  remained 
royally  rigid,  her  aspect  became  tiresome,  and  people  left  off 
watching  the  quivering  of  the  short  feather  in  her  bonnet 
which  they  had  at  first  contemplated  reverently  as  though  it 
were  a  plume  in  an  angel's  wing,  and  concentrated  their  en- 
tire attention  upon  the  sermon.  And  gradually  they  became 
aware  that  they  were  listening  to  a  flow  of  unusually  bril- 
liant and  persuasive  oratory, — by  degrees  their  vague  brains 
grasped  the  astonishing  fact  that  a  parson  preaching  in  aid 
of  a  charity  and  openly  appealing  for  funds,  may,  if  so  gifted 
and  inclined,  present  his  subject  in  various  points  of  view 
like  the  facets  of  a  diamond, — may  plead  his  cause  with  the 
picturesqueness  of  a  poet  and  the  subtle  power  of  a  philoso- 
pher, and  may  win  his  way  by  sheer  strength  and  beauty  of 
rhetoric  where  doctrinal  persuasion  would  be  of  no  avail. 
And  as  Everton  spoke  on  and  on,  the  hush  of  the  church 
grew  more  strained  and  intense, — till  the  smallest  interrup- 
tion, even  of  the  proverbial  '  church  cough,'  would  have  been 
resented  as  an  almost  unpardonable  offense  by  all  present. 
So  exceptional  a  preacher  had  not  been  expected  to  appeal  to 
the  congregation  on  behalf  of  a  benevolent  scheme  which,  on 
the  whole,  had  been  rather  difficult  to  organize,  owing  to  the 
prevalent  custom  among  '  society '  folk  of  giving  their  names 
by  way  of  assistance  and  nothing  else;  and  the  most  callous 
and  indifferent  persons  who  heard  Richard  Everton's  sermon 
that  morning  were  faintly  stirred  to  reluctant  admiration 
for  the  strength,  sincerity  and  simplicity  of  his  utterance. 
With  the  tenderest  pathos  he  spoke  of  the  miseries  of  the 
poor,  and  with  equally  tender  compassion  he  compared  these 
with  the  sufferings  of  the  rich, — the  '  sorrowful  successful ' 
as  he  called  them, — they  who  had  all  this  world's  goods  at 
their  disposal,  and  cared  for  nothing  save  the  change  and  a 
'  new  sensation.' 


352  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  To  make  others  happy,"  he  said  in  one  passage, — "  is 
the  only  '  new  sensation '  that  never  tires.  It  matters  noth- 
ing at  all  if  these  others  prove  ungrateful  for  the  benefits 
you  bestow  upon  them.  You  gain  far  more  than  they  do, 
by  your  simple  act  of  giving.  You  expand  your  soul;  it 
grows  nearer  to  the  stature  of  the  Divine.  The  grudging 
man,  the  mean  man,  dwarfs  his  spiritual  height — cramps  his 
spiritual  powers — withers  his  spiritual  fibers, — and  becomes 
the  merest  pigmy,  when  he  might  reach  heroic  form  and 
heroic  attributes.  Nothing  that  is  given  in  a  noble  cause  is 
ever  lost — it  comes  back  again  to  the  giver  with  an  additional 
thousand  blessings.  You  who  carefully  count  your  pounds 
and  pence, — you  who  invest  every  shilling  in  something  that 
you  imagine  may  bring  you  high  interest,  and  as  often  as  not 
lose  all  your  stakes,  have  you  so  little  faith  in  the  God  you 
profess  to  worship  as  to  think  He  will  not  richly  satisfy 
you  for  what  you  give  in  His  Name?  I  say  that  the  rich- 
est man  among  you  to-day  is  likely  to  be  poor  if  he  refuses  to 
help  his  less  fortunate  fellow-creatures,  while  the  poorest  who 
gives  what  he  can  with  a  loving  heart  in  the  gift,  is  more 
certain  of  prosperity,  swift  and  continuous,  than  any  present 
millionaire  who  denies  assistance  to  those  who  are  in  genuine 
need.  I  am  not  pleading  for  indiscriminate  charity.  There 
is  nothing  I  deprecate  so  much  or  consider  so  harmful  to  the 
true  interests  of  benevolence  as  the  giving  of  money  to 
the  unworthy, — to  the  practiced  begging-letter  writer,  for 
example,  or  to  the  degraded  disciple  of  the  Drink  mania, 
who  feigns  misery  in  order  to  obtain  the  wherewithal  to 
spend  on  the  poison  that  transforms  him  into  a  thing  that  is 
neither  man  nor  beast, — but  I  say  that  wherever  a  real  means 
arises  of  doing  good  to  our  fellow-travelers  who  are  journey- 
ing in  the  same  road  as  ourselves,  through  life  to  the  larger 
life  beyond,  we  should  never  lose  the  opportunity  thus  offered 
to  us.  Sometimes  a  kind  word  is  more  than  gold — some- 
times a  gentle  look  is  worth  more  than  millions  to  the  lonely- 
hearted  man  or  woman; — and  of  these  lonely-hearted  there 
are  many  among  the  world's  richest  inhabitants.  In  what- 
ever way  we  are  called  upon  or  expected  to  help  and  console, 
let  us  not  grudge  our  sympathy,— our  quick  aid, — our  ut- 
most love!  Captious  critics  may  say  I  express  myself  in 
mere  platitudes;  that  we  have  all  heard  over  and  over 


HOLY    ORDERS  353 

again  to  the  point  of  positive  tedium  that  it  is  good  to  *  give 
to  the  poor  and  lend  to  the  Lord.'  '  We  know  all  that ! ' 
they  exclaim : — '  Give  us  something  new ! '  Yes ! — you  may 
know  all  that, — but  like  the  dates  and  figures  of  history 
you  learned  in  childhood,  you  need  to  be  reminded  of  a  duty 
which  is  so  obvious  that  by  this  very  cause  alone  if  falls  into 
neglect.  And  there  is  nothing  so  '  new '  in  this  age,  as  the 
doing  of  a  kindness  for  kindness'  sake!  Without  a  selfish 
motive,  without  egotism,  without  brag,  without  any  of  the 
smug  self-importance  and  assertiveness  which  so  frequently 
disfigures  the  donors  of  large  sums  to  charities;  nothing  of 
all  this, — but  just  kindness  for  kindness'  sake!  love  for 
love's  sake !  "  He  paused  here,  smitten  by  a  sudden  personal 
emotion.  "For,  after  all," — he  continued,  slowly; — "love 
is  the  greatest  of  all  the  attributes  of  God.  If  we  can  love 
our  neighbors  as  ourselves,  we  have  reached  a  high  form  of 
faith, — I  repeat '  if  '  we  can !  If  we  can  forgive  our  enemies 
while  they  are  slaying  us  with  their  scorns  and  slanders,  we 
have  gone  yet  a  step  higher, — and  if  we  can  do  good  to 
those  that  despitefully  use  us,  we  have  touched  the  hem  of 
the  garment  of  Christ  Himself,  who  when  He  was  being 
nailed  to  the  Cross  said,  '  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do !  " 

His  voice  sank, — and  once  more  he  paused.  There  was 
a  moment's  deep  silence,  and  the  German  '  royalty '  who  was 
seated  opposite  the  pulpit  made  a  rustling  movement  of  her 
gown,  indicative  of  her  readiness  to  depart.  The  flicker  of 
a  smile  crossed  Everton's  face — he  heard  and  saw  the  lady's 
restless  stir,  but  paid  no  heed.  It  was  not  his  intention  to 
spoil  his  sermon  for  the  convenience  of  any  '  Highness ' 
whatsoever.  He  had  no  sympathy  with  that  section  of  the 
time-serving  clergy  who  hastily  gabble  through  a  prepared 
sermon  for  the  delectation  of  exalted  personages  who  decline 
to  listen  to  any  exposition  of  the  Word  of  God  longer  than 
ten  minutes.  And  so,  gathering  up  by  degrees  all  the  threads 
of  his  discourse,  he  wove  them  gradually  and  without  haste 
into  a  powerful  summary  and  conclusion,  full  of  ardor  and 
feeling,  delivered  with  such  moving  earnestness  that  a  kind 
of  lightning  thrill  ran  through  the  eagerly  listening  congre- 
gation. They  were  indeed  sufficiently  warmed  by  enthu- 
siasm as  to  have  given  way  to  outbursts  of  applause  had  the 


354  HOLY     ORDERS 

place  been  any  other  than  a  church, — and  when  the  sermon 
at  last  came  to  an  end,  they  were  ready  to  generously  and 
gladly  assist  the  cause  for  which  it  had  been  preached.  A 
collection  was  made  immediately  Everton  had  descended 
from  the  pulpit,  and  over  two  hundred  pounds  in  loose 
money  was  taken  in  about  five  minutes,  added  to  a  bank 
note  for  one  hundred  pounds  which  had  been  dropped  in 
the  plate  like  a  crumpled  bit  of  paper  by  Everton's  American 
acquaintance,  Clarence  Howard.  While  the  people  were 
filing  out  of  church  to  the  solemn  and  thunderous  strains  of 
a  Wagnerian  organ  voluntary,  Everton  had  to  wait  a  few 
minutes  in  the  vestry  for  the  Vicar  of  the  parish,  whom  he 
had  promised  to  accompany  to  luncheon  with  the  particular 
Bishop  whose  invitation  and  persuasion  had  brought  him  to 
London.  He  was  a  trifle  weary;  he  had  done  his  best,  and 
yet  there  was  a  sense  of  fatigue  and  depression  upon  him ; — 
a  kind  of  unsatisfied  query  lurking  at  the  bottom  of  his  soul, 
which  said, — "  What  is  the  use  of  it  all  ?  What  is  the  use 
of  charity  to  the  poor?  The  utmost  that  can  be  done  is  but 
a  drop  of  relief  in  the  ocean  of  human  misery; — an  ocean 
so  vast  and  wide  and  deep  that  sometimes  it  seems  threaten- 
ing to  swamp  the  world !  " 

The  door  of  the  vestry  opened  softly,  and  a  verger 
looked  in. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir!     A  lady  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

And  before  he  could  draw  a  breath  or  utter  a  word,  he 
was  face  to  face  with, — Jacynth. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Everton?"  she  said. 

He  was  silent.  She  smiled  as  his  eyes  fastened  upon  her 
gravely  and  coldly.  She  knew  how  beautiful  she  looked  in 
her  gown  of  dark  clinging  velvet  with  old  lace  at  her  throat 
and  wrists,  and  a  plumed  hat  such  as  Gainsborough's  ladies 
might  have  worn,  coquettishly  poised  on  the  waving  masses 
of  her  rich  brown  hair. 

"  I  saw  you  last  night  at  the  Savoy," — she  went  on,  in 
soft  slow  accents  which  had  the  ring  of  an  almost  ultra- 
refinement, — "  It  was  quite  a  surprise, — though  of  course  I 
knew  you  were  in  London  because  I  heard  you  were  to  preach 
here  to-day.  We  are  all  so  interested  in  the  charitable 
scheme  which  you  have  pleaded  for  so  splendidly,  and  see ! — 
this  is  to  add  to  the  collection  on  behalf  of  my  husband  and 


HOLY    ORDERS  355 

myself."  And  she  laid  a  check  for  five  hundred  pounds  on 
the  little  table  that  stood  between  them.  "  It  is  to  be  in- 
cluded in  the  general  collection,  please! — and  our  names  are 
not  to  be  mentioned.  I  brought  it  round  to  the  vestry  my- 
self in  order  to  explain  this  to  you  personally, — and  also  be- 
cause,— because  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  again.  You  re- 
member me,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  quietly — "  I  remember  you  perfectly 
— Jacynth !  " 

As  he  uttered  her  name  she  gave  him  a  quick  glance  of 
something  like  amusement.  "  If  you  were  quite  candid  with 
yourself,"  she  thought,  in  her  overweening  vanity,  "you 
would  say  you  remember  me  because  you  can  never  for- 
get !  "  But  his  features  were  perfectly  impassive ;  she  could 
read  upon  them  no  expression  of  either  pleasure  or  pain. 

"  So  much  has  happened  since  we  last  met," — she  went  on, 
lowering  her  brilliant  eyes  and  heaving  a  slight  sigh ; — "  But 
I  often  think  of  poor  little  Shadbrook " 

A  sudden  flash  of  scorn  on  his  face  checked  her  in  the 
middle  of  her  sentence. 

"  I  should  imagine,"  he  said, — "  that  it  would  be  difficult 
for  you  not  to  think  of  poor  little  Shadbrook!  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  musing,  almost  childlike 
expression  of  surprise.  Then  she  laughed  a  little. 

"You  are  not  a  bit  changed,  Mr.  Everton!  You  are 
just  the  same  well-meaning  parson  trying  to  make  bad  folks 
good!  I  wonder  you  don't  get  tired  of  it,  for  it's  no  use, 
you  know!  But  you  are  famous  now,  and  that  makes  such 
a  difference !  Even  if  people  won't  be  reformed  the  preacher 
who  tries  to  reform  them  always  gets  the  advantage  of  being 
talked  about."  She  smiled; — the  radiant  smile  of  sweetest 
self-content.  "  Come  and  see  me  to-morrow,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Thank-you,"  he  replied  stiffly, — "  I  am  returning  to 
Shadbrook  to-morrow." 

"  Ah,  but  you  will  not  return  if  I  ask  you  to  remain  in 
town  just  for  one  more  day!  "  she  said,  with  a  sudden  pretty 
earnestness — "  Please  do  me  this  favor!  I  want  to  have  a 
long  talk  with  you, — I  have  so  much  to  tell  you!  Don't 
refuse  me!  " 

She  laid  her  delicately  gloved  hand  on  his  arm.  He 
shuddered  instinctively,  trying  hard  to  control  the  rising 


356  HOLY     ORDERS 

wave  of  bitter  wrath  that  surged  through  him  at  the  sight 
of  her.  Only  last  night  he  had  prayed  God  that  he  might 
never  meet  her  again.  And  this  was  how  God  had  an- 
swered his  prayer!  Then,  were  prayers  futile?  Or  was 
there  in  very  truth  a  malicious  devil  who  took  delight  in 
intercepting  them  and  bringing  them  to  naught  ?  He  longed 
to  tell  this  woman  what  he  thought  of  her, — what  evil  she 
had  worked  on  harmless  lives, — and  yet, — there  she  stood, 
foul  to  the  soul's  core  with  vulgarest  vice,  and  lovely  as  a 
spring  morning! — smiling  at  him  too  with  the  simplest  and 
most  wistful  air  of  perfect  innocence!  He  lifted  her  hand 
from  his  arm  and  put  it  gently  aside. 

"  If  you  wish  it,  I  will  come,"  he  said — "  What  hour  shall 
I  find  you  disengaged  ?  " 

She  took  out  a  golden  card-case  on  which  an  elaborate 
monogram  '  J.N.'  sparkled  in  diamonds,  and  on  one  of  her 
visiting  cards  wrote  with  a  tiny  pencil — '  5.' 

"  There !  "  she  said — "  You  must  consider  yourself  quite 
a  privileged  person,  for  as  a  rule  I  never  see  any  caller  on 
Mondays.  We'll  have  a  good  long  '  talk-out ' !  I  want  to 
tell  you  everything!" 

Almost  he  smiled.  There  was  something  vaguely 
humorous  about  her  splendid  effrontery; — the  effrontery  of 
the  position  to  which  she  had  been  raised  by  the  wealth  and 
the  whim  of  a  rascal  Jew.  So  contemptible  an  uplifting ! — 
and  yet  in  the  world's  eyes  quite  sufficient  for  the  subjuga- 
tion of  that  Clown  with  Cap  and  Bells  which  is  nowadays 
called  '  Society.'  Sufficient  too,  for  her,  originally  a  mere 
village  wanton,  to  assure  him  that  he,  her  former  Vicar, 
'  was  quite  a  privileged  person  '  in  that  he  might  be  permitted 
to  see  her  on  a  day  not  usually  granted  to  visitors!  And 
through  the  recesses  of  his  memory  rang  the  echo  of  a  dying 
man's  frenzied  scream — '  Jacynth !  Jacynth !  Hold  her ! 
See  where  she  goes!  Will  no  one  stop  her?  Running,  run- 
ning, running, — look! — running  straight  into  Hell!  Ja- 
cynth! All  the  devils  at  her! — tearing  her  lovely  body, — 
her  lovely  body  that  God  made!  God!  There's  no  God! 
There  never  was !  It's  all  a  lie !  " 

At  that  moment  the  vestry  door  opened  again,  and  the 
Vicar  for  whom  he  had  been  waiting,  entered. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  have  left  you  alone  so  long,  Mr.  Everton," 


HOLY    ORDERS  357 

he  began,  formally;  then  with  a  sudden  change  of  tone  he 
exclaimed — "Mrs.  Nordstein!  This  is  indeed  an  unex- 
pected pleasure ! " 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  with  a  graceful  air  of 
condescension. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  mind  my  coming  into  the  vestry?  "  she 
said,  and  a  dazzling  smile  lit  up  her  lovely  face  as  brilliantly 
as  though  the  sunshine  had  illumined  it — "  I  felt  that  I  really 
must  congratulate  you  on  having  secured  Mr.  Everton's 
services  for  our  good  cause.  He  has  given  us  much  to  think 
about,  has  he  not?  I  have  brought  an  offering  from  my 
husband  and  myself — Mr.  Everton  will  explain " 

She  broke  off,  looking  from  one  to  the  other  in  prettily 
feigned  embarrassment,  while  Everton  handed  the  check 
she  had  given  him  to  his  colleague. 

"  Mrs.  Nordstein  wishes  this  to  be  included  in  the  general 
collection,"  he  said,  coldly — "  The  donors'  names  are  not  to 
be  publicly  mentioned." 

The  Vicar  glanced  hastily  at  the  sum  for  which  the 
check  was  inscribed.  Then  his  little  eyes  twinkled  with 
excitement  and  his  face,  which  was  full  and  rubicund,  grew 
rounder  and  redder. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Nordstein!"  he  murmured,  in  almost 
reverential  accents, — "This  is  really  too  much!  You  are 
too  generous!  Five  Hundred  Pounds!  Why,  this  brings 
our  collection  up  to  eight  hundred  pounds  this  morning! 
Mr.  Everton,  are  you  not  delighted  with  such  an  excellent 
result  of  your  good  efforts  ?  It  is  positively  unprecedented  1 " 

Everton  was  looking  fixedly  at  Jacynth,  and  wondering  as 
he  looked  whether  any  memory  of  the  past,  or  any  prick  of 
conscience  troubled  her?  Apparently  not. 

"  I  am  sure,"  he  said,  stiffly,  "  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nord- 
stein would  have  helped  your  cause  in  any  case." 

"Ah,  do  not  be  too  sure  about  that!" — and  Jacynth 
laughed  softly, — "We  have  so  many  appeals  that  we  are 
obliged  to  harden  our  hearts  against  them  all  sometimes. 
But  such  a  grand  sermon  as  you  have  preached  this  morning 
would  move  the  coldest  spirit!  Thank  you  so  much  for  it! 
Good-by!" 

She  extended  her  hand.  He  was  obliged  to  take  it  for 
civility's  sake, — but  he  dropped  it  again  quickly.  She  under- 


358  HOLY     ORDERS 

Stood  the  repulsion  expressed  in  his  movement,  and  an  amused 
smile  lifted  the  corners  of  her  lovely  mouth.  Turning  from 
him,  she  held  out  the  same  hand  to  the  Vicar,  whose  name 
was  Carey,  and  whose  congregations,  owing  to  their  '  High  ' 
ritualistic  practices,  were  known  among  the  irreverent  as 
'  Mother  Carey's  chickens.'  He  grasped  it  impressively  and 
bent  over  it. 

"  May  I  ?  "  he  said,  and  kissed  the  well-fitting  back  of 
her  glove.  Her  smile  deepened. 

"  You  remind  me  of  Cardinal  Lyall !  " — she  said — "  He 
is  a  perfect  courtier, — like  yourself!  " 

"  Ah,  the  Cardinal  is  privileged !  He  sees  you  oftener 
than  I  do !  "  answered  the  Reverend  Carey,  with  a  fatuously 
tender  air  of  reproach. 

"You  mean  that  he  calls  on  me  oftener!  "  she  corrected 
him,  laughingly — "  But  he  is  not  always  admitted !  Now  if 
you  will  let  me  know  next  time  you  are  coming  to  see  me, 
I  promise  to  be  at  home !  Good-by !  " 

With  a  flashing  backward  glance  of  her  dark  eyes  at  Ever- 
ton,  she  moved  out  of  the  vestry,  and  Mr.  Carey  ambled 
hastily  after  her. 

"  Allow  me  to  see  you  to  your  car!  "  he  said,  eagerly,  and, 
like  a  portly  servitor  attendant  on  a  queen  he  followed  in 
the  wake  of  her  trailing  velvets  and  perfumed  lace,  and  dis- 
appeared. 

Everton  left  alone  again  a  few  moments,  was  thankful  for 
the  brief  respite  from  the  strain  he  had  been  putting  on  his 
nerves.  He  was  astonished  and  dismayed  at  the  force  of  the 
storm  that  raged  within  his  soul.  He  felt  as  a  man  deeply 
and  cruelly  wronged  may  feel  in  the  presence  of  his  bitterest 
foe.  Over  and  over  again  he  asked  himself  how  it  was  pos- 
sible that  Jacynth — Jacynth  Miller — Dan  Kiernan's  light- 
o'-love,  and  the  toy  of  other  men  besides  Dan  Kiernan,  should 
actually  have  taken  a  position  in  London  society ! — a  position 
too  in  which  she  could  seemingly  afford  to  dictate  her  '  days 
for  visitors,'  as  though  she  were  some  great  celebrity  or 
mover  of  world's  business,  to  whom  time  was  more  precious 
than  money!  He  could  have  laughed  at  the  incongruity  of 
the  thing,  if  his  thoughts  were  not  so  bitter.  Jacynth! — 
she,  whom  he  had  hoped  to  call  '  the  best  girl  in  the  village  ' 
. — Jacynth, — who  had  been  a  frequenter  of  the  Shadbrook 


HOLY    ORDERS  359 

public-houses, — Jacynth  whose  old  '  auntie '  still  lived  on  in 
her  tumble-down  cottage,  drinking  and  swearing  her  days 
away, — Jacynth,  the  same,  the  very  Jacynth,  without  heart, 
without  conscience,  without  pity!  Her  half-amused,  half- 
tolerant  condescension  of  manner  towards  him  had  stung  him 
to  the  quick!  But, — he  would  see  her  to-morrow.  And 
to-morrow  he  would  tell  her  the  truth  of  herself! — the 
•cruelty,  the  shame,  the  grief  she  had  brought  into  other  lives 
than  her  own, — for  though  he  had  prayed  God  to  spare  him 
from  any  contact  with  her,  God  had  not  consented  to  his 
prayer.  Therefore,  let  the  worst  happen!  The  worst? 
What  was  his  idea  of  the  worst  ?  There  was  no  '  worst  * 
for  Jacynth.  Divine  Order  or  Divine  Chaos  had  arranged 
that  all  should  go  well  with  her  who  served  God  not  at  all, 
— while  the  same  Divine  Order  or  Chaos  had  equally  de- 
creed that  all  should  go  ill  with  him  who  was  God's  minis- 
ter. Then,  if  it  was  to  be  so,  God's  will  be  done!  Here 
his  troubled  meditations  were  interrupted  by  the  return  of 
the  Reverend  '  Mother  Carey.' 

"  Come  along  now,  Mr.  Everton,"  he  said, — "  I'm  sorry 
we  have  been  delayed  a  little,  but  we  shall  not  be  late  for 
the  Bishop's  luncheon.  It's  only  ten  minutes  from  here  and 
my  brougham  is  waiting.  This  way !  " 

They  passed  out  of  the  vestry  and  through  a  side  passage 
of  the  church  into  the  street,  and  entering  the  carriage  which, 
as  stated,  was  in  readiness,  were  rapidly  driven  away. 

"You  know  Mrs.  Nordstein,  I  suppose?"  said  Carey, 
then. 

"  I  have  met  her,"  Everton  replied,  evasively. 

"Charming  woman! — perfectly  charming! — and  generous 
to  a  fault !  A  less  simple  nature  than  hers  would  be  spoilt, 
— ah  dear  me,  yes — quite  spoilt  by  the  constant  adulation 
she  receives  in  society ;  but  she  is  so  young,  and  so  unsophisti- 
cated— so  beautifully  unconscious  of  her  beauty !  " 

Everton  smiled  coldly. 

"  You  are  no  doubt  a  good  judge  of  her  character," — he 
said. 

Mr.  Carey  beamed  all  over  with  self-gratulation. 

"  I  think  so !  I  think  I  may  say  I  know  her  fairly  well," 
— he  answered,  placidly.  "  She  is  always  ready  to  help  our 
church,  though  she  is  not  a  regular  member  of  our  congre- 


36o  HOLY     ORDERS 

gation.  She  has  numerous  friends  among  the  clergy,  and  is 
very  catholic  in  her  tastes.  You  heard  her  mention  Cardinal 
Lyall?" 

Everton  bent  his  head  in  assent. 

"  He  is,  as  of  course  you  know,  a  leading  light  of  the 
Roman  Church  in  England,  and  she  assists  his  charities  quite 
as  much  as  she  does  ours.  Her  husband  is  a  Jew ;  an  enor- 
mously wealthy  man ! — enormously  wealthy !  "  and  the  rever- 
end gentleman  almost  smacked  his  lips  as  he  said  the  words — 
"  But  he  leaves  her  at  perfect  liberty  to  follow  her  own 
religion,  and  to  help  its  good  works  in  any  way  she 
pleases " 

"  Her  own  religion?    What  is  that?"  asked  Everton. 

"  My  dear  sir!  "  And  Mr.  Carey  opened  his  round  eyes 
in  mild  wonder — "Was  she  not  in  my  church  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"That  does  not  make  the  matter  clear  to  me," — and 

Everton  looked  at  him,  fully  and  squarely "  Because  I 

do  not  know  what  form  of  faith  your  church  stands  for." 

'  Mother  Carey  '  stared  hard. 

"  Why,  you  have  just  preached  there,"  he  began. 

"  As  I  should  have  preached  anywhere  in  the  cause  of 
charity,"  answered  Everton,  quietly — "  But  I  do  not  con- 
sider that  I  have  preached  in  a  church  which  represents  the 
national  faith  of  England.  To  tell  you  the  truth  I  am 
rather  puzzled  to  know  what  to  call  it.  My  density,  no 
doubt!  I  should  have  been  glad,  however,  had  I  known  it 
was  quite  *  Roman  '  rather  than  partially  so.  I  should  have 
preached  with  quite  as  much  heart, — perhaps  even  with  more 
feeling  in  a  place  that  showed  itself  honestly  consistent  with 
its  own  professed  doctrines." 

Carey  reddened. 

"  You  speak  rather  plainly,  Mr.  Everton," — he  said — 
"And  were  I  inclined  to  be  touchy,  which  I  am  not,  I 
might  say  offensively." 

Everton  gave  a  slight  deprecatory  gesture. 

"  You  would  be  right,  I  am  sure!  " — he  said — "  It  is  my 
habit  to  deal  bluntly  and  unsparingly  with  what  I  consider 
a  false  position,  and  that  I  often  give  offense  is  my  fault 
as  well  as  my  misfortune.  But  I  can  make  no  apology. 
Our  Church  is  in  a  very  serious  state — and  I  cannot  tolerate 


HOLY    ORDERS  361 

what  I  view  as  '  stagey '  trifling  with  the  noble  and  simple 
truths  of  Christ.  Christ  Himself  is  being  arraigned  before 
the  world's  tribunal  for  the  second  time  in  these  degenerate 
days,  and  I  cannot  stand  idly  looking  on  without  protest. 
'  High '  ritual  is  theatrical, — theatrical  things  are  sham 
things, — and  God  knows  we  have  enough  shams  in  this  life 
without  making  a  sham  of  the  Life  Beyond !  " 

"  I  fail  to  understand  you ! " — and  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Carey  drew  himself  up  rigidly — "  But — if  you  please,  we 
will  not  argue !  There  are  at  the  present  day  several  points 
of  difference  among  the  clergy  which  it  is  better  we  should 
not  discuss.  You  have  done  us  great  service  in  preaching 
for  our  cause  this  morning,  and  for  the  rest," — and  here  he 
smiled,  unctuously — "let  us  agree  to  disagree!  Here  we 
are ! " 

The  carriage  stopped  at  that  moment.  They  alighted  and 
entered  the  house  where  they  were  expected  by  the  Bishop, 
who,  as  one  of  the  chief  patrons  of  the  benevolent  scheme  in 
which  society  had  interested  itself,  was  responsible  for  having 
invited  Everton  to  preach  in  aid  of  the  cause  that  morning. 
This  distinguished  ecclesiastic  was  a  portly  pleasant-looking 
man,  with  a  kindly,  somewhat  effusive  manner,  and  humor- 
ous twinkling  eyes  which  often  belied  the  utterance  of  his 
rather  primly  set  mouth,  over  which  they  appeared  to  keep 
mischievous  watch  for  a  chance  of  contradiction.  He  was 
a  great  favorite  with  women,  because  he  always  managed  to 
impress  them  with  the  idea  that  he  was  particularly  and 
paternally  interested  in  each  individual  member  of  the  sex 
taken  severally  and  apart.  Considered  as  a  whole,  however, 
his  opinion  of  them  was  widely  different  from  that  which  he 
simulated,  and  perhaps  if  they  had  known  of  the  not  always 
choice  witticisms  which  he  was  wont  to  indulge  in  at  their 
expense  when  well  out  of  their  vicinity,  they  might  not  have 
subscribed  to  give  him  the  luxurious  motor-car,  of  which  he 
had  lately  become  possessor,  as  the  result  of  their  admiring 
homage.  Nevertheless  he  was  quite  an  agreeable  personage, 
though  he  was  prouder  of  his  own  legs  than  of  anything  else 
in  his  diocese.  Let  it  be  said  that  this^ vanity  was  excusable, 
for  the  legs  were  undoubtedly  exceptional  in  their  elegant 
shapeliness.  Wherever  they  moved  they  commanded  atten- 
tion. Standing  upright,  or  gracefully  crossed  when  the  body 


362  HOLY     ORDERS 

they  so  nobly  supported  was  in  a  sitting  attitude, — slightly 
bent  in  a  posture  of  attention,  or  moving  forward  with  an 
all-conquering  stateliness,  the  legs  were  the  dignity  of  the 
Bishop.  They  advanced  now  to  meet  Everton  with  a  bland 
geniality,  and  the  hand  that  was  proffered  at  the  same 
moment  was  quite  a  poor  and  secondary  affair  compared  to 
them. 

"  Delighted," — said  the  Bishop,  in  rich,  warm  tones,  "  de- 
lighted to  have  the  pleasure  of  personally  congratulating 
you  on  the  splendid  work  you  have  been  doing  lately  in  the 
cause  of  temperance,  Mr.  Everton!  Yes!  And  most  grate- 
ful to  you  for  coming  up  to  town  to  help  us  with  our  little 
scheme  of  charitable  work.  Mr.  Carey  tells  me  the  collec- 
tion to-day  amounts  to  eight  hundred  pounds!  Eight  hun- 
dred pounds!  Astonishing!  I  know  of  no  preacher  in 
London  who  could  have  drawn  so  much  out  of  the  pockets 
of  a  congregation  in  one  morning!  Let  me  introduce  you 
to  the  Archdeacon !  " 

Everton  here  acknowledged  the  presence  of  a  handsome 
man  of  middle  age,  about  as  portly  as  the  Bishop,  but  rather 
more  symmetrical  in  height  and  build,  though  owning  less 
shapely  legs  than  those  of  his  ecclesiastical  superior.  He  was 
an  impressive  individual,  with  an  elocutionary  voice  and  an 
elocutionary  manner,  and  was  highly  popular  with  that 
particular  section  of  church-going  society  who  like  their 
religious  doctrines  served  up  to  them  like  dessert,  on  painted 
plates  with  satin  doilies,  and  finger-bowls  full  of  rose  water. 
He  greeted  Everton  with  a  grave  cordiality  that  became  his 
height  and  general  appearance,  and  as  he  was  the  only  ad- 
ditional guest  whom  the  Bishop  had  invited,  luncheon  was 
no  longer  delayed.  Seated  at  table,  the  four  gentlemen  in 
Holy  Orders  began  to  exchange  ideas  on  the  topics  of  the 
day,  and  though  at  first  Richard  took  a  ready  and  eloquent 
part  in  the  conversation,  he  soon  found  himself  out  of  the 
running  and  quite  behind  his  companions  in  what  is  called 
the  social  point  of  view.  Growing  more  and  more  silent,  he 
presently  sat  quietly  listening  to  the  flow  of  talk  between  the 
Bishop,  the  Archbishop  and  the  Reverend  '  Mother  Carey ' 
in  more  or  less  pained  bewilderment.  Money  was  unques- 
tionably their  favorite  subject, — the  wealth  of  this,  that,  or 
t'other  personage  being  discussed,  declared,  or  denied, — and 


HOLY    ORDERS  363 

various  ideas  for  '  drawing '  congregations  were  mentioned 
as  being  of  vital  importance. 

"  But  we  must  not  go  quite  so  far,"— said  the  Archdeacon, 
m  his  deep,  vibrant  tones — "  not  quite  so  far  as  our  excellent 
friends  in  America!  Over  there  the  services  are  extremely 
"up-to-date.'  One  minister  in  New  York  has,  so  I  hear, 
illuminated  the  outside  of  his  church  with  arc-lights  like  a 
music-hall.  ^  He  has  provided  an  orchestra  instead  of  an 
organ  and  illustrates  his  sermon  with  magic-lantern  slides. 
Pretty  young  women  in  white  gowns  show  the  congregation 
to  their  seats,  and  every  worshiper  is  provided  with  a  pic- 
ture post-card!  Ha-ha!  Ha-ha-ha!"  The  Archdeacon's 
low  laugh  had  something  mellow  and  juicy  about  it.  "  That 
is  a  curious,  and  no  doubt  effective,  form  of  service!  But  I 
hardly  think  it  would  succeed  here.  A  post-card  parson! 
Ha-ha!  He  is  a  great  enthusiast,  and  calls  the  primitive 
Church  methods  '  the  age  of  the  tallow  candle.'  He  says 
that  we  in  England  still  pursue  the  tallow-candle  policy,  but 
that  he  intends  to  use  electric  light.  Ha-ha-Aa/  " 

The  Bishop  and  Mr.  Carey  joined  gently  in  the  soft '  Ha- 
ha  ! '  and  helped  themselves  and  the  Archdeacon  to  more 
wine.  Everton  was  very  still;  his  face  was  pale,  and  the 
light  in  his  eyes  was  cold  as  the  flash  of  steel. 

"  After  all," — said  Carey — "  he's  not  so  far  wrong.  It's 
absolutely  necessary  nowadays  to  attract  the  people  by  some- 
thing new,  and,  if  possible,  '  sensational.'  They  are  tired  of 
plain  Gospel  preaching.  I  have  often  thought  of  asking 
Mrs.  Nordstein  to  recite  in  my  church.  Some  devotional 
piece,  of  course — '  Rock  of  Ages  '  or  '  Abide  with  me.'  She 
would  '  draw  '  immensely!  " 

Everton  looked  up.  There  was  an  expression  on  his  fine 
features  that,  like  a  word  of  command,  invoked  silence.  He 
waited  a  moment, — then — addressing  himself  to  the  Bishop, 
said: 

"  My  lord,  will  you  not  speak?  " 

The  Bishop  gave  him  a  placidly  surprised  smile. 

"  Will  I  not  speak?  "  he  echoed — "  Is  there  anything  for 
me  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  thought  so !  "  replied  Everton,  steadily, 
though  his  roice  had  a  strong  ring  of  passion  in  it — "  I 
should  hare  thought  it  impossible  for  you  to  tolerate  pa- 


364  HOLY     ORDERS 

tiently  the  proposal  made  by  a  minister  of  Christ  to  turn  the 
services  of  the  church  into  a  '  variety '  entertainment!  " 

The  Bishop  flushed  red  with  a  violent  shock  of  annoyance. 

"  But  you  must  not  take  it  quite  in  that  way," — he  hastily 
began. 

"  How  am  I  to  take  it  then  ?  " — and  Everton,  thoroughly 
roused,  flashed  a  challenging  glance  at  Carey,  who  merely 
smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  air  of  patient 
tolerance,  while  the  Archdeacon  turned  his  well-trained  eyes 

from  one  to  another  as  in  mild  deprecation  of  any  dispute 

"  A  church  is  a  building  consecrated  to  Divine  worship. 
Men  are  educated  and  ordained  to  carry  out  certain  forms 
of  this  Divine  worship  with  all  possible  humility,  simplicity 
and  reverence.  Yet  I  gather  that  Mr.  Carey  would  not  con- 
sider it  beyond  his  ordainment  if  he  could  engage  the  serv- 
ices of  a  notorious  society  woman  to  play  the  actress  within 
the  so-called  '  House  of  God,'  in  order  to  draw  a  large 
audience,  God  Himself  not  being  considered  sufficiently  at- 
tractive! My  lord,  if  the  Christian  religion  is  no  longer 
an  honest  faith  with  us,  let  the  Christian  churches  all  be 
pulled  down  rather  than  have  their  ancient  and  sacred  asso- 
ciations desecrated, — but,  if  we  solemnly  and  truly  believe  in 
God  and  the  Incarnate  Divinity  of  Christ,  let  us  beware  how 
we  blaspheme!  " 

The  Bishop  looked  confused.  He  was  distinctly  uncom- 
fortable,— anxious  as  he  always  was  to  conciliate  all  parties 
and  harmonize  conflicting  opinions,  he  found  Everton's 
plain  speaking  very  awkward  and  difficult  to  answer. 

"  Surely," — said  the  Archdeacon,  coming  to  the  rescue 
with  a  bland  and  pacifying  air — "  you  would  not,  Mr.  Ever- 
ton, consider  the  recitation  of  a  hymn  in  church  by  a  good 
and  beautiful  woman,  blasphemous?" 

"  I  was  about  to  make  the  same  protest,"  murmured 
Carey,  sipping  his  wine;  "  Mr.  Everton  has,  if  he  will  par- 
don me  for  saying  so,  become  rather  suddenly  heated  in  the 
matter.  A  great  singer  does  not  commit  blasphemy  because 
he  or  she  sings  an  anthem  in  the  church, — nor  can  I  imagine 
the  recitation  of  a  beautiful  poem  by  a  sweet  and  generous 
lady  a  more  blasphemous  performance  than  the  singing  of  an 
anthem.  It  does  not  do  to  be  too  narrow-minded  in  these 
days.  And  I  think  I  may  venture  to  remark  that  the  word 


HOLY    ORDERS  365 

'  notorious '  does  not  apply  to  Mrs.  Nordstein.  She  is  cer- 
tainly renowned  for  her  beauty — but  her  social  reputation 
stands  very  high — in  fact  she  is  a  woman  of  the  finest  prin- 
ciple and  most  unblemished  character " 

"  Unblemished, — positively  unblemished !  "  agreed  the 
Archdeacon,  murmuringly — "  It  is  true  that  she  was  for  a 
very  short  time  on  the  stage  as  quite  a  young  girl, — but  that 
was  the  merest  episode  of  accident,  and  scarcely  counts  in 
her  life  at  all." 

Over  Everton's  face  there  swept  a  shadow  of  stern  pain. 

"  It  matters  little  what  she  is," — he  said,  coldly;  "  I  judge 
no  one  in  this  case  as  either  virtuous  or  vicious.  What  I  say 
is  this — that  if  any  attempt  is  made  to  sink  the  church  to  the 
level  of  the  theater,  it  will  end  by  making  religion  a  farce. 
If  people  cannot  be  drawn  away  for  one  day  in  the  week 
from  all  worldly  concerns, — from  all  spectacular  shows,  cos- 
tumes, theatrical  mannerisms,  noise,  bluster  and  brag,  to 
consider  in  prayerful  quietness  the  majesty  of  that  Omnip- 
otence on  whom  our  little  lives  depend  for  every  breath, 
— then  we  clergy  are  not  doing  our  duty.  We  may  not 
and  dare  not  blame  the  people,  for  it  is  evident  that  we 
alone  are  in  fault.  We  have  lost  our  hold  on  them.  And  I 
am  quite  sure  that  if  there  is  any  one  of  us  here  present  or 
elsewhere,  who  feels  that  he  cannot  draw  his  congregation 
together  in  the  name  and  for  the  love  of  Christ,  without  any 
external  or  fictitious  aid,  his  plain  duty  is  to  resign  the 
Church  altogether  and  seek  some  other  means  of  making  his 
life  useful  to  the  world." 

The  Archdeacon  smiled  blandly. 

"  You  are  mediaeval,  my  dear  Mr.  Everton ! "  he  said,  in 
soothing  accents — "  Really  quite  mediaeval !  It  is  very  re- 
freshing to  meet  with  any  one  like  you  in  these  days.  You 
are  a  great  gain  to  the  Church!  But  you  must  not  expect 
to  find  many  imitators.  St.  Francis  preached  to  the  little 
birds.  Perhaps  you  will  be  another  St.  Francis^  But 
modern  society,  alas — is  not  composed  of  little  birds !  " 

The  Bishop  laughed  genially. 

"Live,  and  let  live!"  he  said,— "  I  believe  in  allowing 
each  man  in  Holy  Orders  to  formulate  his  own  ideas  on 
the  faith  to  suit  the  tone  and  temper  of  his  congregation. 
Provided  the  laity  are  drawn  to  God,"— here  he  pursed  his 


366  HOLY     ORDERS 

lips  and  looked  solemn ;  "no  objection  should  be  raised  to  the 
means  whereby  this  desirable  end  is  effected.  We  should 
not  deny  even  to  Mrs.  Nordstein," — here  he  smiled  again, — 
"  the  power  to  save  a  soul !  We  cannot  lay  down  any  fixed 
law." 

"  Not  even  the  law  of  Christ  ?  "  demanded  Everton — "  It 
seems  to  me  our  sole  business  is  to  lay  down  that  law,  and 
insist  upon  it,  if  we  mean  to  keep  our  faith  firm  as  a  bul- 
wark of  our  national  life." 

"  The  Higher  Criticism,"  began  the  Archdeacon,  oratori- 
cally,  "  the  Higher  Criticism " 

"  Is  rank  blasphemy !  "  said  Everton,  his  rich  voice  ringing 
out  like  a  clarion.  "  You  call  '  higher  criticism  '  the  opinion 
of  a  set  of  pigmy  scholars,  whose  knowledge,  such  as  it  is, 
may  be  proved  mere  ignorance  within  the  next  hundred  years 
of  scientific  discovery!  Assertion  and  contradiction  are  the 
forward  and  backward  swing  of  time's  pendulum, — what 
the  wisest  man  declares  is  true  to-day  may  be  false  to-mor- 
row ;  but  the  life  and  death  of  Christ, — the  Perfect  Example 
of  Perfect  Love,  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day  and  for  ever! 
And  by  Him  and  His  command  alone  we  must  take  our 
stand,  otherwise  our  calling  and  election  to  the  ministry  is 
a  lie  and  an  affront  to  Heaven !  " 

There  was  a  moment's  dead  silence.  The  Bishop  grew 
red  and  pale  by  turns.  Everton's  plain  statement  of  plain 
fact  was  to  him  visibly  unexpected  and  unpleasant.  The 
Reverend  Mr.  Carey  looked  to  him  for  an  answer, — the 
Archdeacon  turned  a  deferential  ear  towards  him.  He 
hummed  and  hawed;  it  was  gradually  borne  in  upon  him 
that  he  ought  to  say  something.  He  took  a  hasty  gulp  of 
wine,  and  his  contradictory  eyes  looked  down  at  his  mouth 
in  watchful  expectancy. 

"  You  have  very  strong  opinions,  Mr.  Everton,"  he  said, 
at  last — "  And,  if  you  will  excuse  my  frankness,  I  venture 
to  consider  them  rather  too  strong!  Were  I  the  Bishop  of 
your  diocese  I  am  afraid — I  am  really  afraid  I  should  have 
to  take  you  to  task !  You  tread  on  very  delicate  and  danger- 
ous ground  when  you  assume — mind,  I  only  say  '  assume ' 
to  know  exactly  the  meaning  of  Our  Lord's  commands, — 
for  He  gave  as  much  consideration  to  the  Magdalen  as  he 
did  to  His  own  mother, — nay  perhaps,  even  more! — and 


HOLY    ORDERS  367 

He  consorted  'with  publicans  and  sinners.'  Provided  we 
serve  God,  it  matters  little  how  we  serve  Him.  To  one 
person  a  showy  ceremonial  may  help  to  salvation ;  to  another, 
a  simple  service  may  suffice ;  to  one  a  Roman  Catholic  ritual 
may  appeal, — to  another  a  Methodist  meeting, — but  provided 
we  have  all  one  great  intention " 

"  Which  is  to  suit  our  own  convenience,"  interposed  Ever- 
ton,  calmly — "  anything  may  be  tolerated.  I  see!  I  under- 
stand! But,  my  lord,  your  veiled  reproof  carries  no  con- 
viction to  me.  On  the  contrary,  I  am  bitterly  sure  that  the 
vacillating  conduct  of  many  of  the  clergy  to-day  is  alienating 
the  people  from  the  comprehension  of  Christ's  true  teaching, 
— and  I  am  equally  and  sadly  positive  that  we  shall  be  pun- 
ished for  our  neglect  and  apathy  very  speedily.  I  hear  that 
there  are  even  men  in  your  high  position,  my  lord,  who  are 
disgracing  their  sacred  office, — one  I  could  myself  name, 
who  makes  a  companion  and  friend  of  a  professing  clergy- 
man whose  open  immorality  is  the  common  byword  of  the 
country  town  he  frequents, — and  another " 

He  paused,  checked  by  the  startled  confusion  in  the  faces 
of  his  hearers.'  The  Archdeacon  raised  an  impressive  hand 
in  admonition. 

"  Pray  say  no  more,  Mr.  Everton ! "  he  murmured,  in 
grieved  accents — "  We  know  to  whom  you  allude.  I  hardly 
thought  the  matter  would  have  reached  your  ears,  but  as  it 
has  unfortunately  done  so,  you  surely  see  the  advisability  of 
dropping  the  subject?" 

"  I  should  hope,"— said  the  Bishop,  solemnly—"  that  Mr. 
Everton  would  not,  even  in  the  utmost  fervor  of  his  zeal, 
ever  allude  to  it !  " 

"  It  would  certainly  be  unwise  and  regrettable  to  do  so, 
— added  Mr.  Carey. 

Everton  looked  from  one  to  another  in  momentary  sur- 
prise. Then  a  sudden  light  seemed  to  flash  upon  him,  and 
his  face  grew  very  cold  and  stern. 

"  I  think  I  comprehend  you !  "  he  said,  slowly.  But  let 
me  just  say  that  I  am  absolutely  ignorant  of  the  details  of 
the  matter  which  so  evidently  disturbs  your  minds.  All  I 
know  is,  that  a  certain  Bishop  is,  to  put  it  plainly,  an  in- 
famous criminal,— and  that  both  the  Law  and  the  State  are 
conniving  to  cover  his  crime  and  keep  him  in  his  sacred 


368  HOLY    ORDERS 

office,  when  by  every  canon  of  honor  and  decency,  he  should 
be  cast  out  of  it  and  publicly  disgraced.  You  ask  me  not  to 
speak  of  this  scandal.  I  do  not  even  know  the  name  of  the 
man  concerned.  But  if  ever  I  do  know  it,  I  shall  not  join 
the  conspiracy  of  silence.  Rather  shall  I  do  my  best  to  ex- 
pose this  high  ecclesiastical  fraud  as  openly  as  possible." 

The  Archdeacon  flamed  into  sudden  temper. 

"  You  will  not  serve  the  Church  by  such  an  action,  sir !  " 
he  exclaimed,  warmly ;  "  You  will  do  infinite  harm !  You 
must  learn  to  be  diplomatic.  The  cause  of  true  religion  is 
not  served  by  exposing  the  weakness  of  any  of  its  ministers." 

Everton  looked  full  at  him. 

"  Why  then  it  would  seem  that  we  are  more  careful  of 
our  national  finance  than  our  national  faith !  "  he  said ;  "  The 
Government  would  not  permit  a  thief  or  a  forger  to  become 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  Why  should  the  Church 
permit  a  criminal  to  officiate  at  her  altars  and  tamper  with 
the  sacraments  of  God?  It  is  a  position  I  do  not  under- 
stand,— though  I  shall  make  every  endeavor  to  do  so !  " 
Here  he  addressed  the  Bishop.  "Will  you  excuse  me?  I 
have  several  things  to  attend  to  this  afternoon " 

"  One  moment!  "  and  the  Bishop  rose  from  table — "  Give 
me  a  few  words  with  you  in  my  study,  Mr.  Everton," — and 
he  beamed  upon  him  with  a  kindly  cordiality;  "  I  am  sure 
I  shall  be  able  to  convince  you,  that  in  certain  matters  affect- 
ing the  clergy's  position  with  the  laity,  silence  is  best." 

He  led  the  way  out  of  the  room,  and  Everton  followed. 
When  the  two  had  disappeared  the  Archdeacon  and  '  Mother 
Carey '  exchanged  glances.  Then  Carey  gave  a  short  angry 
laugh. 

"An  insolent  fellow!" — he  said — "A  pity  the  Bishop 
ever  asked  him  to  preach." 

The  Archdeacon  smiled  benignantly. 

"  I  should  not  say  that," — he  observed,  placidly ;  "  No, 
I  should  not  say  that  if  I  were  you !  He  is  a  very  powerful 
preacher, — very  powerful  indeed.  Moreover,  he  is  being 
4  boomed  ' ;  and  if  the  4  boom  '  continues,  as  it  is  likely  to  do, 
London  will  succumb  to  one  of  its  epileptic  fits  of  enthusiasm 
and  he  will  '  draw '  all  society.  I  think  she  means  that  he 
shall  do  so." 

"She?"  echoed  Carey,  quickly— "  Who  is  she?" 


HOLY    ORDERS  369 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Nordstein,  of  course." 

"  Mrs.  Nordstein!    What  has  she  to  do  with  him?  " 

"  That  I  am  quite  unable  to  inform  you," — and  the  Arch- 
deacon waved  the  question  away  with  a  graceful  valedictory 
gesture ;  "  But  I  am  sure  she  is  interested  in  his  career. 
It  was,  in  fact,  she  who  suggested  to  the  Bishop  that  he 
should  be  asked  to  preach  for  our  charity." 

Carey's  round  eyes  protruded  and  his  jaw  lengthened  with 
an  expression  of  mingled  surprise  and  dismay. 

"  Mrs.  Nordstein!  "  he  again  repeated — "  Dear  me!  That 
makes  things  rather  serious!  He  may  become  a  power!" 

"  Well,  if  her  influence  can  make  him  so,  he  will,"  replied 
the  Archdeacon,  walking  with  quite  a  stagey  elegance  to  the 
window  and  looking  out — "  I  see  the  Bishop  has  not  de- 
tained him  very  long.  He  has  just  gone." 

And  as  he  spoke  the  Bishop  himself  re-entered  the  room, 
graciously  smiling. 

"  I  have  allowed  our  enthusiastic  country  friend  to  de- 
part," he  said,  amicably ;  "  He  was  anxious  to  get  through 
some  pressing  correspondence.  He's  a  very  remarkable  man. 
And  a  fine  preacher.  But  perhaps  just  a  little, — a  little 
eccentric." 

"  Very  much  so,  I  should  say !  "  agreed  Carey ;  "  I  sup- 
pose you  told  him " 

"Not  all."  And  the  Bishop  suddenly  frowned.  "It 
would  not  have  been  safe.  He  might  have  started  off  to 
rouse  all  London !  With  such  a  man  it  is  best  to  temporize." 

"  For  how  long?  "  inquired  the  Archdeacon,  with  an  odd 
smile. 

The  darkness  on  the  episcopal  features  deepened. 

"  I  cannot  say.  He  is  a  difficult  character.  He  has  the 
courage  of  his  opinions." 

"  The  rashness,  rather  than  the  courage,"  said  the  Arch- 
deacon, severely. 

"Possibly!" 

And  while  they  thus  discussed  him,  Everton,  stricken  to 
his  heart's  core  with  the  horrible  amazement  and  shame 
which  had  been  aroused  in  his  soul  by  the  Bishop's  delicately 
hinted  warning  as  to  the  real  nature  of  the  scandal  affect- 
ing one  of  his  brothers  in  office,  made  his  way  back  to  his 
hotel  as  quickly  as  he  could,  there  to  shut  himself  in  the 


370  HOLY     ORDERS 

solitude  and  silence  of  his  own  room  and  try  to  think  out 
the  incidents  of  the  morning.  Even  Jacynth,  with  her  ir- 
ritating smile  and  lazy  languorous  eyes,  sank  in  the  back- 
ground of  his  consciousness  in  face  of  the  greater  shock  he 
had  received  to  all  the  deepest  and  most  sacred  emotions  of 
his  soul. 

"  My  God,  my  God !  "  he  groaned,  in  sharp  agony  of 
spirit,  "  If  the  people  only  knew!  " 

With  this  came  the  lightning  flash  of  a  suggestion: 

"  Why  should  I  not  tell  them?  " 

For  a  moment  his  mental  self  sprang  upright  like  a  war- 
rior fully  armed  for  battle, — then  sank  again  under  the 
weary  weight  of  a  wave  of  deep  depression.  A  mocking 
voice  seemed  whispering  in  his  ears: 

"  O  fool !  " — it  said — "  Of  what  avail  to  speak  the  truth  ? 
No  one  listens  and  no  one  cares !  " 


CHAPTER   XX 

IT  was  with  a  strong  sense  of  reluctance  and  misgiving  that 
he  found  himself  next  day  outside  the  door  of  Israel 
Nordstein's  mansion  in  Portman  Square,  at  the  hour  Jacynth 
had  appointed  to  receive  ^him.  Twice  or  three  times  he  had 
almost  decided  not  to  visit  her,  and  to  send  a  written  ex- 
cuse,— then  the  memory  of  her  mocking  glance  and  light 
laugh  came  back  upon  him  and  goaded  his  flagging  intention. 
For,  after  all,  she  was  only  Jacynth!  Only  Jacynth,  a 
heartless  village  wanton,  to  whom,  when  in  ignorance  of 
her  true  character,  he  had  given  the  Holy  Communion  on 
many  a  Sunday, — only  Jacynth,  whom  he  had  pitied  because 
she  had  never  known  father  or  .mother,  and  because  she  was 
just  one  of  those  illegitimate  waifs  and  strays  cast  into  the 
world  without  their  own  consent,  and  for  ever  after  branded 
with  a  shame  not  of  their  seeking.  Only  Jacynth ! — and  she 
lived  here — here  in  this  big  pretentious-looking  house,  painted 
a  dazzling  white,  with  balconies  to  every  window,  filled 
with  flowers, — she  whose  home  in  Shadbrook  had  been  a 
four-roomed  cottage  which  neither  she  nor  her  so-called 
'  auntie '  had  ever  troubled  to  keep  clean !  Truly  time  had 
worked  changes  in  her  surroundings, — and  for  her  evil 
deeds  she  had  received  prosperity  instead  of  punishment! 
Saddened  and  half  angry  with  fate  and  fortune  for  playing 
such  an  incongruous  trick,  he  paused  on  the  wide  stone  step 
for  a  moment,  hesitating;  then  finally  rang  the  bell.  The 
door  opened  instantly,  displaying  with  considerable  effect 
two  gorgeous  flunkeys  who  stood  like  statues  on  either  side 
of  the  interior  passage  a  little  to  the  rear,  while  a  stately 
man  in  black  advanced  a  step  or  two  with  great  dignity  and 
then  paused,  awaiting  the  statement  of  the  visitor's  business. 

"Mrs.  Nordstein?"  said  Everton,  tentatively. 

The  man  in  black  put  a  counter  question. 

"Mr.  Richard  Everton?" 

371 


372  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  Yes." 

And  he  presented  his  visiting-card. 

The  man  in  black  immediate!)'  relaxed  his  severity  of  man- 
ner, and  became  almost  obsequious. 

"  This  way,  if  you  please,  sir." 

Waving  the  flunkeys  majestically  aside,  he  preceded  Rich- 
ard through  a  magnificent  hall,  rich  with  paintings  and 
statuary  and  great  marble  vases  which  brimmed  over  like 
fountains  with  a  wealth  of  bloom  and  color  provided  by 
masses  of  cut  flowers  and  hot-house  plants, — then  up  a  wide, 
softly-carpeted  staircase  to  the  next  landing,  where  passing 
through  a  doorway  hung  with  rich  rose  silk  curtains,  he 
ushered  him  into  a  long,  light  lovely  room,  exquisitely  deco- 
rated and  furnished,  and  crowded  with  the  most  costly  and 
beautiful  objects  of  art  and  luxury. 

Here  pausing,  he  said — 

"  Will  you  take  a  seat,  sir.  I  will  tell  Mrs.  Nordstein 
you  are  here." 

And  he  made  his  pompous  exit,  bearing  Everton's  visiting- 
card  before  him  on  a  massive  silver  salver  as  though  it  were 
a  trophy. 

In  a  daze  of  sheer  bewilderment  Everton  stood  looking 
about  him,  trying  to  realize  that  all  the  evidences  of  a  lavish 
expenditure  and  easy  mode  of  life  which  surrounded  him 
were  so  many  incontestable  proofs  that  so  far  as  Jacynth 
was  concerned  the  result  of  evil  was  good.  Who  in  '  So- 
ciety '  knew,  or  knowing  who  would  wish  to  remember,  that 
Mrs.  Nordstein  had  been  a  girl  of  bad  character,  now  that 
she  was  '  respectably '  married  to  a  millionaire  ?  A  wealthy 
marriage  is  the  oblivion  of  every  woman's  past  indiscretions! 
A  sudden  sharp  regret  stung  him  as  he  thought  of  his  dead 
wife  Azalea, — of  her  harmless  little  vanities, — of  her  excus- 
able longings  for  pretty  dresses  and  dainty  things  which  he 
could  not  afford  to  give  her — of  the  patient  way  in  which 
she  had  endured  the  dullness  of  Shadbrook  when  her  whole 
nature  was  one  that  instinctively  craved  for  gayety  and  free- 
dom from  restraint, — and  choking  tears  rose  in  his  throat 
at  the  cruelty  of  fate.  To  serve  God  faithfully  had  been 
his  proudest  effort — did  such  service  merit  the  destruction 
of  all  that  his  life  held  dear?  There  was  an  unspoken  pro- 
test in  his  soul  such  as  that  expressed  by  Omar  Khayyam: 


HOLY    ORDERS  373 

"Almighty  Potter  on  whose  wheel  of  blue, 
The  world  is  fashioned,  and  is  broken  too, 

Why  to  the  race  of  men  is  heaven  so  dire? 
In  what,  O  Wheel,  have  I  offended  you  ?  " 

Was  it  right  or  just  that  Azalea,  his  innocent  love,  the 
mother  of  his  child,  should  be  done  to  death  for  no  real 
fault  of  her  own, — while  Jacynth — she  for  whom  there  was 
no  God — she  who  had  recklessly  and  shamelessly  abandoned 
herself  to  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil,  should  be  living 
in  the  satisfaction  of  full  health  and  vitality,  nourished  by 
everything  that  could  make  life  fair  and  pleasant 

Here  his  bitter  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  a  soft  rustling 
sound  caused  by  the  gentle  swaying  aside  of  the  silken  por- 
tiere. A  door  opened  and  closed  again,  and  a  light  step 
approached  him.  He  felt  a  curious  reluctance  to  raise  his 
eyes  till  the  usages  of  civility  compelled  him  to  do  so, — yet 
he  was  conscious  that  Jacynth  had  entered  the  room.  With 
a  mental  effort  as  strong  as  though  he  were  lifting  his  very 
soul  out  of  a  grave  where  it  had  been  buried  alive,  he  forced 
himself  to  look  at  her.  She  had  advanced  towards  him  till 
she  was  within  reach  of  his  hand,  and  she  now  stood  still, 
smiling  as  sweetly  as  one  who  welcomes  a  dear  friend  after 
long  absence. 

"So  you  have  come!"  she  said;  "I  was  afraid  you 
wouldn't!" 

He  was  silent.  He  wondered  how  it  was  that  God  could 
have  made  an  evil  thing  so  beautiful.  Her  loveliness  was 
like  that  of  a  delicate  rose  opening  into  summer  bloom,  and 
the  soft  mystery  of  a  gown  she  wore,  which  seemed  a  mere 
trailing  sheath  of  old  lace  and  silken  tissue  that  clung  to 
her  slim  figure  like  the  calyx  to  a  flower,  defining  without 
too  boldly  declaring  its  exquisite  outline,  was  the  finishing 
touch  of  art  to  nature.  She  met  his  gravely  scrutinizing 
glance  with  charming  self-possession,  and  held  out  her  hand. 
He  barely  touched  it. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  she  murmured,  moving  to  a 
cushioned  ottoman  close  by,  and  sinking  upon  it  in  the 
languid  grace  of  attitude  practiced  by  the  stage  favorites 
and  toy-women  of  society.  "You  look  so  uncomfortable 
standing!  " 


374  HOLY     ORDERS 

Something  lightly  derisive  in  her  tone  sent  a  flush  to  his 
pale  face.  Her  air  and  manner  implied  that  he  appeared 
more  or  less  ridiculous  in  her  eyes, — that  the  very  cut  of 
his  clerical  coat  amused  her,  and  that  she  was  maliciously 
bent  on  making  him  feel  that  his  presence  as  the  Vicar  of  a 
parish  where  her  whole  past  life  was  known,  did  not  im- 
press her  with  the  slightest  shadow  of  shame  or  remorse. 
Quietly  he  drew  a  chair  opposite  to  her,  and  seated  himself. 

"  Haven't  you  a  word  to  throw  at  me?  "  she  went  on — 
"  I  know  you  hate  me — and  you  are  the  only  man  who  does ! 
That's  why  I  am  interested  in  you."  She  laughed  softly, 
and  raised  her  wonderful  eyes  appealingly  to  his.  "  You 
mustn't  be  too  hard  upon  me,  Mr.  Everton!  I  was  a  hope- 
less case  from  the  first.  I  never  wanted  to  be  good.  I 
always  thought — I  think  still — that  good  people  seem  to 
have  a  dull  drab  time  of  it.  I  wanted  the  joy  of  life — • 
luxury,  flattery,  wealth,  comfort,  position!  I  have  got  them 
all.  And  you  ought  to  be  glad  for  me — glad  enough  to  for- 
get the  past." 

He  looked  full  at  her. 

"  The  past  is  not  so  easily  forgotten,"  he  said,  in  a  voice 
that  trembled  a  little, — "  Not  by  me." 

She  smiled,  indulgently. 

"  When  there  is  nothing  pleasant  to  remember,  it  is  best 
to  forget,"  she  answered ;  "  We  should  copy  Nature.  Na- 
ture makes  haste  to  cover  up  and  put  out  of  sight  every  ugly 
thing.  We  ought  to  do  the  same.  You  think  too  much, 
Mr.  Everton.  You  always  did.  You  are  anxious  to  serve 
God, — but  you  do  not  positively  know  whether  there  is  a 
God  to  serve.  He  exists  in  your  imagination.  Beyond  that 
He  gives  no  sign.  You  have  always  been  a  good  man,  yet 
you  have  had  to  suffer  a  great  deal  of  sorrow.  I  have  always 
been  what  you  call  a  bad  woman ;  and  I  have  suffered  noth- 
ing! How  is  that?  Your  God  does  not  care  whether  you 
are  good  or  I  am  bad.  Life  offers  the  same  joys  to  both 
of  us." 

Her  careless,  half-disdainful  way  of  putting  her  argument 
sounded  almost  conclusive.  But  he  caught  at  her  last  words. 

"Not  the  same  joys," — he  said,  quickly;  "Not  the  same 
joys  by  any  means!  What  you  have  chosen  as  happiness, 
to  me  would  be  utter  misery." 


HOLY    ORDERS  375 

"  I  do  not  believe  you!  "  she  declared,  and  her  lovely  face 
lighted  up  with  a  sudden  sparkle  of  mirth, — "  It  would  be  a 
very  strange  parson  indeed  who  could  be  miserable  in  a 
beautiful  house  with  plenty  of  money,  if  he  had  the  health 
and  strength  to  enjoy  it  all.  Of  course  you  may  be  the 
wonderful  exception ! — but  it  is  so  odd  to  think  of  you  as  a 
man  without  any  other  wish  in  the  world  than  to  serve 
God!  It  must  be  such  a  lonesome  sort  of  feeling! " 

She  smiled  at  him  archly,  and  went  on — 

"  I  know  a  great  many  parsons, — heaps  of  them, — and 
they  all  want  ready  cash,  poor  things!  Some  of  them  boldly 
ask  for  it;  others  prefer  to  make  love  to  me, — the  last  pre- 
dominate in  numbers,  I  think!  " 

She  stretched  out  her  arms  lazily,  and  folded  them  above 
her  head,  leaning  back  on  the  embroidered  cushions  behind 
her. 

"  Let's  talk  of  Shadbrook  now,"  she  said,  "  Dull,  wretched 
little  Shadbrook!  The  most  miserable  place  on  earth!  I 
wonder  how  you  can  stand  it!  As  for  saving  souls,  there 
are  no  souls  to  save!  There  are  a  lot  of  dirty,  ugly  old 
women  who  talk  from  morning  to  night  about  births  and 
deaths  and  washing-days;  there  are  several  old  men,  and  a 
few  able-bodied  laborers  who  work  eight  hours  and  drink 
ten;  and  what  young  people  there  are  in  the  place  get  so 
lonely  and  miserable  that  no  wonder  they  go  together  like 
the  birds,  without  a  priest,  for  sheer  company's  sake.  That's 
half  the  cause  of  the  drinking  too.  Loneliness,  and  the  want 
of  some  one  to  look  at  me  and  admire  me,  drove  me  to 
drink  in  the  old  days.  I  loved  it!  It  drowned  all  the  dull- 
ness of  your  preaching  and  teaching, — it  sent  the  color  to 
my  cheeks  and  made  me  wild!  Why,  the  very  first  time 
Dan  Kiernan  kissed  me,  I  was  drunk,  and  so  was  he!  " 

A  sickening  shock  ran  through  Everton's  nerves.  He 
gazed  at  her  as  she  lay  back  on  her  cushions,  a  vision  of  in- 
dolent beauty,  with  her  lovely  skin,  clear  eyes,  and  rose- 
red  lips,  and  he  marveled  at  her  effrontery. 

"Jacynth — "  And  his  voice  almost  failed  him.  "  Ja- 
cynth— " 

"Jacynth!     Well!     That's  me!" 

"That's  you!  Yes,  I  know!"  he  said,  in  low,  tense  ac- 
cents of  strong  pain;  "Would  it  were  not  you!  But  for 


376  HOLY     ORDERS 

God's  sake,  do  not  speak  to  me  of  Dan  Kiernan you 

forget " 

"  No;  I  remember!  "  she  answered,  slowly,  "  I  remember 
all  Dan  killed  your  wife.  But,— I  killed  Dan!" 

"You!    You  killed  Dan!" 

Every  vestige  of  color  fled  from  his  face,  and  he  sprang 
up,  amazed  and  horrified.  She,  however,  did  not  move  from 
her  reclining  position. 

"  How  tragic  you  look !  "  she  said ;  "  I  believe  you  think 
I  am  an  escaped  murderess!  Not  quite!  When  I  say  I 
killed  Dan,  I  mean  that  it  was  my  motor-car  that  ran  over 
him.  Nobody  knows  it,  of  course, — it  was  pure  accident. 
He  was  lying  in  the  middle  of  a  high-road  in  Wiltshire, — 
drunk,  as  usual,  I  suppose.  My  husband  and  I  were  touring ; 
we  were  racing  at  night  against  time,  in  order  to  reach  a 
house  where  we  were  expected  to  join  a  party  early  next 
day.  When  the  car  jolted  I  made  the  chauffeur  stop, — 
and  I  got  out  and  went  to  see  what  mischief  we  had  done. 
Then  I  saw  Dan.  He  was  quite  dead.  I  had  never  seen 
a  dead  man  before, — and  well!  it  was  not  a  pleasant  sight! 
But  I  recognized  Dan  at  once.  And  he  would  have  been 
glad  if  he  had  known !  " 

Everton  stood  staring  at  her,  bewildered  by  the  calm 
entirely  matter-of-fact  way  in  which  she  had  related  the 
whole  incident.  Had  her  car  crushed  a  snail  or  a  worm,  she 
could  not  have  spoken  more  indifferently  than  she  did  of  the 
horrid  end  of  her  first  lover. 

"  Glad!  "  he  echoed,  stupidly—"  Glad  if  he  had  known?  " 

"  That  it  was  I, — Jacynth!  "  and  her  voice  rang  out  silver 
clear  as  a  note  of  triumph  music ;  "  That  it  was  I  who  had 
driven  over  him  and  crushed  him  to  death!  That  it  was  I 
who  looked  down  at  his  bleeding  face,  and  rested  my  foot 
upon  it !  He  would  have  been  glad  and  proud !  He  would 
have  wished  no  better  end !  Poor  Parson  Everton,  you  seem 
quite  frightened!  I  suppose  you  do  not  know,  in  the  hum' 
drum  life  you  lead,  that  a  man — even  a  brute  man  such  as 
Pan  was — may  idolize  a  woman  as  he  would  never  idolize 
God !  Every  hair  of  my  head,  every  inch  of  my  body,  was 
gold  and  honey  to  Dan !  Gold  and  honey, — life  and  death ! 
I  did  not  care  for  him, — no,  not  a  jot!  That  is  why  he 
cared  so  much  for  me!  He  made  me  drink  with  him  be- 


HOLY    ORDERS  377 

cause  he  knew  that  drink  would  do  with  me  what  he  never 

could  do  with  me  himself.  Why," and  she  lifted  her 

head  from  the  cushions  and  drew  her  slim  throat  upwards 
with  a  swan-like  gesture  of  pride  and  defiance ;  "  do  you, 
even  you,  think  that  if  I  had  not  been  drunk,  I  would  have 
given  myself  to  Dan  ?  " 

He  was  speechless.  Who  could  find  reply  to  such  a  ques- 
tion? What  man,  seeing  her  and  hearing  her  wild  words, 
could  utter  commonplaces  of  regret,  pity  or  reproach?  All 
the  ordinary  things  of  life  seemed  blurred  to  his  mind; — 
Drink  only, — Drink,  the  Black  Death  of  the  nation,  loomed 
before  him  like  a  widespreading  cloud  of  pestilence  in  which 
all  honest  efforts  for  the  betterment  of  humanity  were  ab- 
sorbed into  mere  blight  and  miasma,  and  he  stood  stricken 
by  the  utter  hopelessness  of  it, — the  despair  of  it.  She  rose 
and  went  to  him,  laying  both  her  hands  in  a  half-caressing 
way  upon  his  arm. 

"  Do  not  look  at  me  like  that," — she  said,  quite  gently ; 
"  You  seem  so  sorry;  and  there  is  no  need  to  be  sorry.  There 
is  nothing  to  pity  me  for " 

His  heart  thrilled  with  a  sudden  agony. 

"  Nothing  to  pity  you  for!  "  he  exclaimed — "  Oh,  Jacynth, 
Jacynth!  If  I  had  been  told  the  truth,  I  might  have  saved 
you!" 

Her  lovely  eyes  opened  widely  upon  him  in  something  of 
amusement.  Then  she  shook  her  head. 

"  Impossible !  I  never  wanted  to  be  saved," — she  said ; 
"  I  don't  understand  the  process.  I  was  never  a  girl  that  any 
parson  could  teach,  though  I  used  to  come  to  your  Sunday 
class,  and  listen  to  your  kind  talk,  just  as  I  would  have  lis- 
tened to  a  play.  You  were  always  so  good!— you  are  so 
good! — and  I'm  ever  so  much  sorrier  for  you  than  you  ought 
to  be  for  me !  Because  you  see  your  goodness^  has  brought 
you  a  lot  of  misfortune;  and  my  badness,  if  it  is  badness, 
has  brought  me  nothing  but  luck.  And,  I've  never  forgotten 
you — I've  always  thought  of  that  day  when  I  met  you  in 
the  pouring  rain,  and  when  you  trusted  me,— actually  trusted 
me  to  keep  Dan  from  the  drink,— and  told  me  you  hoped  1 
would  be  the  best  girl  in  the  village.  Do  you  remember? 

There  was  a  mist  before  his  eyes  as  they  met  hers. 

"  I  remember !  "  he  answered,  simply. 


378  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  It  was  so  strange,"  she  went  on — "  to  be  trusted  in  that 
way!  I  laughed i at  you  for  it,  but  I  liked  you  all  the  same. 
You  seemed  such  a  child  in  your  faith,  and  in  your  wish  to 
believe  good  of  everybody.  '  The  best  girl  in  the  village ! ' 
Now,  think  for  a  moment,  Mr.  Everton!  Suppose  I  had 
been  '  the  best  girl,'  what  sort  of  a  life  would  it  have  been 
for  me?  Look  at  me! — and  answer  me,  not  according  to 
the  Church  and  the  Sunday  class,  but  as  a  man!" 

Her  white  ringers  pressed  insistently  on  his  arm, — her  face, 
with  the  soft  color  flushing  its  flower-like  delicacy,  and  made 
almost  luminous  by  the  brilliancy  of  her  star-like  eyes,  was 
upturned  to  his.  He  could  not  affect  a  pharisaical  attitude 
of  mind  which  was  not  true  to  his  own  inward  thought,  nor 
would  he  attempt  to  suggest,  even  to  himself,  the  incongru- 
ous idea  that  she,  with  her  graceful  personality  and  physical 
fascination,  could  possibly  have  been  content  with  the  attain- 
ment of  a  '  best  village  girl '  ideal.  So  he  answered  quietly : 

"  It  would  have  been  no  life  at  all  for  you — not  as  you 
have  chosen  to  live.  But  it  might  have  been  happy,  and, — 
innocent!  " 

She  laughed,  and  moving  away  from  him,  resumed  her 
former  indolent  position  on  the  cushioned  ottoman. 

"  What  is  it  to  be  happy  ?  What  is  it  to  be  innocent  ?  " 
she  demanded ;  "  Happiness  surely  consists  in  doing  what  is 
agreeable  to  one's  self  in  this  world  as  long  as  health  and 
opportunity  last.  As  for  innocence, — you  will  not  find  it 
among  village  girls!  They  read  too  many  newspapers!  " 

Then  she  looked  at  him  where  he  stood,  and  in  her  eyes 
there  was  a  touch  of  compassionate  derision. 

"  Come  and  sit  down  again,  Mr.  Everton," — she  said ; 
and  as  he  obeyed  her,  she  added,  "  I  want  a  real  serious  talk 
with  you.  I  want  you  to  understand  me  better  than  you  do, 
because  I  believe  it  will  help  you  to  understand  other  people 
like  me." 

"  Other  people  like  you !  "  asked  Everton,  incredulously — 
"Are  there  any?" 

Her  pretty  laughter  rippled  out  like  a  soft  cadence  of  song. 

"  Indeed  there  are !  Hundreds !  Especially  society  people 
who  have  given  up  trying  to  be  good.  I  daresay  it  seems 
odd  to  you  to  think  of  me  as  a  *  society  person,'  but  I  am,  you 
know!  I  always  meant  to  be,  and  I  knew  from  what  the 


HOLY    ORDERS  379 

newspapers  taught  me  that  the  stage  was  the  shortest  cut 
to  my  ambition.  Especially  the  variety  stage.  To  dance 
about  there  with  as  few  clothes  on  as  possible  doesn't  want 
much  talent;  and  it's  the  surest  way  to  get  the  notice  of 
Royalty !  I  got  it  at  once.  With  my  face  and  figure  I  had 
no  difficulty.  You  don't  know  the  society  world ;  if  you  did, 
you  would  not  find  anything  surprising  in  the  fact  that  I, 
Jacynth,  the  worst  girl  in  the  village  of  Shadbrook,  instead 
of  the  best,  should  have  done  well  for  myself.  A  woman  I 
know  who  is  hand  and  glove  with  all  the  smart  set,  once 
kept  a  bar  in  a  Chicago  Hotel,  and  still  gets  all  her  money 
from  the  profits  of  the  drink  concern.  She  is  no  better  than 
I  am, — she  has  no  birth,  no  education  and  no  manners;  but 
nobody  minds  that  as  long  as  she  rents  a  big  house,  entertains 
and  throws  money  about.  Now  I  have  tried  to  learn  a  few 
things, — as  soon  as  I  came  to  London  I  spent  some  of  my 
earnings  in  being  trained  and  taught;  but  the  Chicago 
woman  doesn't  even  know  how  to  speak  English  properly. 
And  though  she's  years  and  years  older  than  I  am,  and  has 
bleached  her  hair,  because  a  rusty  gray  was  less  becoming 
than  all  white,  she  has  not  done  having  lovers  yet.  I've 
only  just  begun !  Oh,  don't  look  so  shocked !  " 

She  folded  her  hands  like  a  penitent  child  asking  pardon 
for  some  naughty  prank. 

"  Please  be  patient  with  me!  " — she  said — "  I'm  not  half 
so  bad  as  some  of  the  '  leaders '  of  fashion!  I'm  not,  really! 
And  I've  thought  far  more  of  you  than  you  have  of  me.  Be- 
cause  "  and  her  eyes  darkened  with  a  sudden  seriousness, 

"  even  in  the  old  days  you  always  had  a  certain  attraction 
for  me." 

He  was  silent.    She  went  on  slowly — 

"  I  had  never  seen  a  good  clergyman  before  I  saw  you. 
The  former  Vicar  of  Shadbrook  was  a  brute;  despised  by 
the  whole  village  for  his  hypocrisy  and  meanness.  When  he 
died,  and  you  came  to  take  his  place,  people  wondered 
whether  you  would  not  perhaps  be  worse  than  he.  They 
could  not  imagine  you  might  be  better.  They  had  left  off 
believing  in  clergymen  at  all,  and  it  was  difficult  for  them 
to  trust  you.  But  you  won  them  round  a  good  deal;  they 
began  to  like  you.  I  don't  think  they  ever  liked  your  wife. 
She  was  too  pretty." 


380  HOLY     ORDERS 

He  gave  a  gesture  of  pain  and  offense. 

"  Do  not  speak  of  her," — he  said,  quickly,.  "  I  can  bear 
much but  not  that!  not  that  from  you !  " 

She  sat  very  still,  and  did  not  lift  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  sorry !  "  she  murmured, — "  But  I  want  to  tell  you 
everything " 

"  And  I  want  to  hear  everything," — he  answered — "  Only 
spare  me  where  you  can !  " 

She  looked  at  his  pale,  troubled  face  for  a  moment  without 
speaking.  Her  vanity  was  vaguely  hurt.  She  saw  that  his 
love  for  his  murdered  wife  was  still  his  paramount  passion,— 
and  she  was  curiously  vexed  to  think  that  the  living  presence 
of  her  own  matchless  beauty  could  not  drive  from  his  mind 
the  pale  ghost  of  a  dead  woman. 

"  I  was  wretchedly  brought  up,  as  you  know," — she  went 
on  slowly.  "  The  drunken  old  thing  I  called  Auntie, — 
by  the  way,  is  she  still  alive  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  expect  she'll  be  like  Mortar  Pike, — go  doddering  on 
till  she's  a  hundred," — and  Jacynth  laughed  a  little;  "  She 
is  no  relative  of  mine,  and  she  certainly  doesn't  deserve  that 
I  should  ever  do  anything  for  her.  She  used  to  tell  me  my 
own  story  every  day  with  curses  and  blows.  I  was  a  love- 
child,  she  said;  my  father  was  a  gentleman,  my  mother 
a  kitchen-maid.  Poor  kitchen-maid!  She  was  young  and 
pretty,  and  the  '  gentleman,'  while  on  a  visit  to  the  house 
where  she  was  in  service,  took  advantage  of  her  youth  and 
stupidity  in  the  approved  '  gentlemanlike '  fashion.  She  died 
when  I  was  born,  and  left  me  with  the  woman  who  had 
nursed  her.  This  was  '  Auntie,'  who  for  some  reason  or 
other  kept  me  till  I  was  big  enough  to  carry  wood  and  coals 
and  water  about  for  her,  when  she  made  me  a  kind  of  general 
servant  without  wages.  Of  course  I  took  every  chance  I 
could  to  get  out  of  her  way  whenever  it  was  possible,  and 
to  amuse  myself  as  I  liked.  At  the  Church  school  I  had  been 
taught  to  read  and  write,  and  I  almost  spelt  out  every  news- 
paper I  could  get  hold  of.  A  girl  who  was  in  service  at 
Cheltenham  used  to  send  me  penny  '  society '  papers — and  I 
loved  to  read  all  about  the  peeresses  who  had  been  chorus 
girls,  and  the  Paris  women  who  make  the  fashions.  I  was 
always  thinking  and  planning  how  I  could  start  a  career  of 


HOLY    ORDERS  381 

the  same  kind  myself.  Once  I  saw  a  picture  in  one  of  the 
papers  of  a  woman  in  a  swing,  with  only  a  little  white  dra- 
pery about  her, — her  legs  and  neck  and  arms  were  all  bare 
— and  I  read  that  she  was  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Brazenly, 
formerly  a  '  variety  artiste.'  That  set  me  on  the  track  of 
the  stage.  To  have  a  portrait  of  one's  self  taken  like  that  I 
thought,  was  splendid, — no  ordinary  country  girl  would  dare 
to  show  so  much  of  her  body  to  a  photographer, — yet  this 
'  variety  artiste '  had  done  it,  and  had  got  well  married  too. 
I  knew  I  was  beautiful — I  could  see  that  for  myself,  though 
Bob  Hadley  was  the  first  man  who  told  me  how  beautiful 
I  was.  He  was  dreadfully  in  love  with  me  and  wanted  to 
marry  me — you  know  all  about  that!  He  was  a  carpenter 
— I  could  not  have  settled  down  in  Shadbrook  as  the  wife 
of  a  consumptive  carpenter!  Now,  could  I?" 

He  looked  at  her  and  was  silent.  She  read  his  expression, 
and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  went  up  in  a  little  smile. 

"  Then," — she  continued, — "  then  came  Dan."  Here  she 
paused,  and  a  sudden  wave  of  rich  color  rushed  to  her  cheeks 
and  brow.  "  Dan," — she  said,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  was  a  bold 
lover, — a  man  whose  passions  swept  everything  before  him, — 
but,  the  drink  was  bolder  still !  I  remember, — I  shall  never 
forget — the  first  time  I  was  really  drunk.  Drunk!  Think 
Of  it  I — a  girl  of  barely  sixteen !  Yet  I  did  not  take  much  of 
the  stuff  they  gave  me, — but  it  made  my  head  burn  as 
though  it  were  on  fire, — my  hair  hurt  me,  and  I  undid  it 
and  let  it  fall  over  my  shoulders, — and  all  the  men  in  the 
public-house  shouted  at  the  sight  of  it,  and  Dan  took  it  up 
and  twisted  it  through  his  fingers, — and  everything  seemed 
going  round  and  round,  and  I  myself  whirled  and  waltzed 
with  the  giddy  wheel,— and  I  danced  and  ran,— danced  and 
ran  as  hard  as  ever  I  could  till  the  ground  suddenly  slipped 
away  from  me,  and  I  fell —into  Dan's  arms.  ^  Dan  caught 
me  and  took  me  up,  and  carried  me  away 

"Then "  Everton's  voice  was  hoarse  and  unsteady; 

"  It  was  not  your  fault " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  indifferently. 

"  Oh  yes,  it  was !  I  knew  Dan  was  a  drunkard ;  and  I 
knew  he  would  make  me  drink  with  him.  I  went  quite 
willingly.  It  amused  me.  There  was  nothing  else  to  do  in 
Shadbrook.  It  was  so  deadly  dull!  And  the  dullest  thing 


382  HOLY     ORDERS 

of  all  was  when  the  school  teacher,  or  the  district  visitor, — 
such  frights  of  women,  both  of  them! — came  round  telling 
us  to  read  the  Bible  and  say  our  prayers  and  go  to  church 
and  Communion  regularly  and  ask  God  to  make  us  good! 
As  if  God  cared !  Or  as  if  we  cared !  " 

His  lips  moved, — but  no  sound  came  from  them.  Of  what 
avail  to  speak?  What  arguments  could  be  used  that  this 
woman  would  not  put  to  scorn?  What  were  the  conven- 
tional noralities  of  Church  discipline  to  her? 

"  Look  at  the  birds  and  flowers!  "  she  said,  and  her  voice 
became  tuneful  with  sudden  tenderness ;  "  No  one  calls  them 
wicked  for  living  their  own  lives  in  their  own  way.  There 
is  no  law  condemning  them  to  eternal  punishment  for  mating 
when  and  where  they  will,  and  as  often  as  their  nature  in- 
clines them.  They  are  happy, — and  every  one  calls  them 
innocent.  Yet  if  I  bend  like  a  rose,  or  fly  like  a  bird  to  the 
hand  that  would  caress  me,  I  am  called  wicked  and  corrupt ! 
/  may  not  mate  where  I  choose, — yet  it  is  merely  man's  law 
that  imposes  this  restraint  on  me, — God  is  silent  about  it 
all!  Only  He  plainly  shows  us  that  the  birds  and  flowers 
are  happier  and  purer  than  we !  " 

Her  eyes  shone  with  a  lovely  limpid  light, — the  sunshine 
of  a  smile  quivered  on  her  lips. 

Everton  rose  abruptly  and  paced  the  room  to  and  fro. 

"  You  cannot  judge  the  spiritual  by  the  material, — "  he 
began. 

She  interrupted  him. 

"Why  not?  It  is  all  we  have  to  go  by!  Wise  men  of 
science  tell  us  that  nature  is  in  itself  the  reflex  or  outcome 
of  the  mind  of  God.  If  that  be  so,  the  mind  of  God  seems 
to  hold  only  one  idea,  which  is  to  make  each  living  thing 

happy  for  a  little  while, — a  very  little  while ! — and  then 

to  kill  it!" 

He  came  and  stood  facing  her.  There  was  a  great  wist- 
fulness  and  sorrow  in  his  eyes. 

"  Jacynth,"  he  said,  slowly ;  "  Is  it  possible  you  have  no 
faith?  Is  there  nothing  in  your  better  self, — for  I  believe 
each  man  and  woman  has  a  better  self,  however  much  the 
worse  may  predominate, — which  tells  you  that  death  is  not 
all? — that  there  is  a  Life  Beyond,  an  unknown,  mysterious 
but  certain  life  whose  good  or  ill  we  must  determine  for 


HOLY    ORDERS  383 

ourselves  here  and  now?  Can  it  be  that  when  you  came  to 
me  with  the  other  young  girls  of  Shadbrook  to  the  Sunday 
class,  you  did  not  believe  one  word  of  what  I  was  endeavor- 
ing to  teach?  Is  it  my  fault?  Is  it  my  inefficiency  as  a  min- 
ister of  Christ  that  made  me  too  weak  to  draw  you  to  Him? 
Tell  me!  If  I  seemed  to  you  insincere  or  hypocritical, — a 
mere  clerical  humbug  whom  you  could  not  trust  to  have  any 
compassion,  patience  or  sympathy  with  you,  I  would  like  to 
know  it.  I  must  have  been  lacking  in  some  way  that  you 

should  have  been  lost!  I  cannot  bear "  and  his  voice 

shook, — "  I  cannot  bear  to  think  that  you  were  a  partaker 
in  Our  Lord's  Communion  without  believing  in  Him!  " 

She  gazed  at  him  with  an  incredulous,  half-pitying  amaze- 
ment. Then  she  laughed  softly. 

"  Poor  Mr.  Everton !  What  a  child  you  are,  for  a  man  1 " 
she  said — "  You  seem  to  live  in  a  dream  of  ages  far  behind 
our  time!  No  one  believes  in  Christ  nowadays;  surely  you 
know  that?  The  Churches  have  to  be  kept  up,  because  the 
clergy  don't  want  to  resign  their  incomes  and  disband, — but 
even  they  don't  believe!  If  they  did,  they  would  act  quite 
differently.  Some  people  are  trying  to  introduce  Buddhism 
and  Islamism  as  a  change  from  Christianity, — but  the  best 
thing  of  all  is  to  be  rational  and  material,  and  leave  trans- 
cendental nonsense  alone.  You  talk  as  if  the  Crucifixion 
happened  yesterday ! " 

"  It  happens  now!  "  said  Everton,  with  a  strong  vibration 
of  emotion  in  his  accents ;  "  it  happens  every  time  one  crea- 
ture whom  Christ's  love  has  redeemed  speaks  lightly  of 
His  name!  If  such  blasphemers  be  of  the  clergy,  all  the 
worse  for  them!  But,  Jacynth,  I  have  not  asked  you  what 
others  say  or  what  others  accept, — I  ask  you!  Did  you 
never  believe  a  word  I  taught  you  ?  " 

She  smiled  up  at  him  candidly. 

"Never!" 

He  shrank  back  as  though  he  had  received  a  blow.  She 
watched  him  curiously. 

"  If  I  had  believed,  do  you  think  I  could  have  taken  to 
the  drink— or  to  Dan?  "  she  said;  "  If  I  had  really  thought 
that  there  was  an  Almighty  Power  that  cared  for  me  and 
watched  over  me,— if  I  had  really  felt  that  there  was  a 
Heaven  to  which  I  should  be  taken  after  death,  do  you  think 


384  HOLY     ORDERS 

I  would,  or  could,  have  gone  to  the  bad?  But  no  clergy- 
man— not  even  you — has  ever  persuaded  me  that  such  stories 
are  true.  I  see  with  my  own  eyes  that  God, — if  there  is  a 
God, —  does  not  care ;  that  good,  really  good  people  are  made 
to  suffer  terrible  things  for  no  fault  of  their  own,  and  that 
there  is  really  no  law  except  such  as  one  makes  for  one's 
self  and  one's  own  convenience.  Claude  Ferrers  told  me 
that." 

"  Claude  Ferrers !  "  cried  Everton — "  That  brute  I  saw 
with  you  last  night  at  the  Savoy " 

"  He's  not  a  brute,"  she  interrupted  him,  with  some  quick- 
ness;— "He's  one  of  the  cleverest  men  in  London.  He  writes 
plays  and  beautiful  poetry, — and  all  the  best  critics  admire 
him.  And he's  a  very  great  friend  of  mine  just  now !  " 

He  turned  from  her  abruptly.  The  utter  shamelessness, 
the  cool  audacity  with  which  she  spoke  were  horrible  to  him, 
— and  yet — her  beauty  was  as  a  ravening  flame!  A  sudden 
temptation  suggested  itself  to  his  mind — hideous  in  its  swift- 
ness and  subtlety, — why  should  not  he,  even  he,  snatch  her 
away  from  the  life  she  was  leading  and  save  her  soul  for 
Heaven !  For  one  flashing  moment  it  was  as  though  the  pit 
of  Hell  had  opened, — the  next,  he  had  sprung  back  from  the 
edge  of  the  abyss  and  his  spirit  was  in  arms,  boldly  and 
ruthlessly  telling  itself  that  there  was,  and  could  be  no  sav- 
ing of  the  soul  of  Jacynth  through  him, — but  merely  an  add- 
ing of  passion  to  passion  and  sin  to  sin.  Like  a  whirlwind 
the  storm  of  thought  went  over  him  and  left  his  heart  like 
a  desert  heaped  with  burning  sand,  but  outwardly  he  showed 
no  sign  of  emotion,  save  that  his  face  was  very  pale  and  his 
manner  very  cold. 

"  You've  not  heard  the  rest  of  my  story," — Jacynth  went 
on.  "  I  want  you  to  know  it  all.  And  though  you've  asked 
me  not  to  speak  of  your  wife,  I  really  must  say  a  word  or 
two  about  her,  for  I  owe  her  an  immense  debt  of  gratitude. 
Indeed  if  it  had  not  been  for  her  I  might  never  have  left 
Shadbrook." 

Standing  where  he  was,  some  little  distance  apart  from 
her  near  a  grand  piano,  on  which  the  principal  object  set 
forth  for  notice  was  the  signed  portrait  of  a  king,  his  eyes 
fastened  upon  her  piteously  as  though  she  were  a  strong 
magnet  drawing  all  the  buried  grief  of  his  soul  out  of  the 


HOLY    ORDERS  385 

soothing  darkness  of  tears  into  the  fierce  light  of  despair. 
But  he  was  silent. 

'That  night  when  you  were  so  anxious  about  Dan, — 
when  I  met  you  and  told  you  that  I'd  take  care  he  didn't 
get  any  more  drink,"  she  continued ;  "  I  stayed  with  him  in 
his  cottage,  and  I  promised  him  that  if  Jennie  died  I  would 
be  his  wife.  It  was  a  foolish  promise,"  she  hesitated,  and  the 

color  sprang  to  her  face  in  a  warm  glow,  "  but there 

were  reasons  for  making  it.  Perhaps, — if  Jennie  had  died 
then,  quickly,  and, — if  my  little  child  had  lived, — I  should 
have  been  content  to  settle  down  in  Shadbrook,  not  because 
I  loved  Dan,  but  because  he  loved  me.  It  was  fine  to  be 
loved  so  utterly  and  desperately, — it  is  not  every  day  that  one 
comes  across  a  man  who  is  willing  to  give  up  everything  for 

the  love  of  a  girl, — and  well !  " her  eyes  shot  a  malicious 

gleam  from  under  their  dark  lashes "  I  don't  think  Jen- 
nie would  have  lived  long  anyway !  But  next  morning  your 
wife  came, — and  she  knew  what  was  being  said  in  the  village 
about  me  and  Dan,  and  when  she  heard  I  had  been  in  the 
cottage  with  Dan  all  night  she  told  Jennie  all  the  tale. 
That  evening  when  Dan  went  home,  Jennie  cried  out  to 
him — '  Is  it  true  ?  ' — and  Dan  couldn't  understand  at  first, 
but  when  he  did  he  was  like  a  madman.  He  shook  Jennie 
in  her  bed  till  she  fainted  away, — then  he  ran  out  of  the 
house  and  drank  till  he  was  blind  and  deaf,  and  black  in 
the  face  with  rage.  Then  he  came  to  me,  storming  and 
cursing.  He  asked  me  to  go  away  with  him  at  once  from 
Shadbrook.  '  If  you  don't,'  he  shouted—'  There'll  be  mur- 
der here!  I'll  finish  off  the  d d  parson  and  his  meddle- 
some wife, — and  I'll  make  short  work  of  Jennie!  But  if 
you'll  come  along  with  me  I'll  leave  them  all  alone.'  I 
knew  what  that  meant, — Dan  was  always  a  man  of  his  word, 
even  in  drink, — but  I  managed  to  quiet  him  for  the  moment, 
and  I  told  him  I'd  go  with  him  in  a  day  or  two.  I  knew 
the  time  had  come  for  me  to  decide  my  own  future,  and  ] 
wasn't  long  making  up  my  mind.  There  was  a  man  I  had 
got  acquainted  with,  a  sort  of  actor-manager  who  '  coached 
amateur  Shakespeare  reading-societies,— he  told  me  he  did 
it  for  the  purpose  of  getting  into  the  houses  of  the  aris- 
tocracy, and  becoming  acquainted  with  people  of  title  and  po- 
sition who  wanted  to  show  themselves  off  on  the  stage  and 


386  HOLY     ORDERS 

who  were  too  stupid  to  know  how  to  read  or  to  act.  He 
was  always  talking  about  duchesses  and  princesses  who  sent 
for  him  and  asked  his  advice  about  their  amateur  theatricals, 
and  he  played  at  being  quite  the  fine  gentleman.  He  had 
fallen  in  love  with  me  one  day  when  he  met  me  taking  a  glass 
at  the  '  Ram's  Head,'  he  was  motoring  to  Cheltenham, — and 
he  said  that  if  I  would  go  to  London  with  him,  he'd  find 
me  a  place  on  the  variety  stage.  So  when  your  wife  had 
brought  everything  to  a  finish  for  me  in  Shadbrook,  I  wrote 
to  him  to  come  and  fetch  me  away.  He  came,  and  I  went 
with  him  straight  to  London  one  night, — he  had  his  motor 
waiting  in  a  bye-lane  about  a  mile  outside  the  village,  and 
we  did  the  whole  journey  at  top  speed.  It  was  a  splendid 
run !  I  was  not  sorry  to  go, — I  was  only  just  a  little  sorry 
for  Dan and  you!" 

Everton  started  as  from  a  heavy  dream. 

"  Me?    Sorry  for  me?  "  he  echoed "  In  what  way?  " 

She  rose  and  moved  towards  him  with  a  lithe,  slow  grace, 
and  resting  one  elbow  on  the  piano  stood  regarding  him 
fixedly. 

"  Because  I  knew  you  would  be  disappointed  in  me," 
she  answered,  slowly,  "  because  I  felt  that  when  you  heard 
all  you  would  think  of  me  as  a  beautiful  thing  broken  and 
spoilt ;  that  you  would  be  pained  and  angry, — for  I  knew, — 
I  couldn't  help  seeing  that  though  as  a  parson  you  could  not 
approve  of  me,  yet  as  a  man1  you  admired  me.  I  know  and 
see  that  still!  " 

There  was  a  pause.  So  long  it  seemed, — so  weighted  with 
deep  silence  that  the  rays  of  sunshine  dancing  on  the  wall 
seemed  more  expressive  of  sound  than  light.  Her  eyes 
flashed  a  challenge  to  his,  but  they  met  with  no  response. 
She  gave  a  little  petulant  movement  of  her  shoulders. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  boring  you,"  she  said ;  "  But  there  isn't 
much  more  to  tell.  I  heard  of  Jennie  Kiernan's  death 
through  a  girl  I  knew, — and  I  felt  sure  Dan  had  killed 
her " 

Everton  made  a  slight  sign  of  protest. 

"  Do  not  accuse  him  of  a  guilt  that  was  not  his,"  he  said, 
in  low,  strained  accents,  "  she  died  of  grief  and  shock.  She 
should  never  have  been  told  of  her  husband's  unfaithfulness." 

Jacynth  gave  him  a  glance  of  open  wonderment. 


HOLY    ORDERS  387 

"  You  say  that?    But  it  was  your  wife  who  told  her " 

He  checked  her  by  an  imperative  gesture. 

"  I  know  it !  "  he  said — "  And  my  wife  is dead !  " 

A  shadowy  pallor  made  his  face  look  gray  and  old  as  he 
spoke ;  instinctively  he  covered  his  eyes  with  one  hand.  Some 
faint  touch  of  compunction  moved  her,  and  she  drew  closer 
to  him. 

"  Mr.  Everton,"  she  murmured;  "  I  have  always  been  so 
sorry — it  was  such  a  terrible  blow  to  you — you  loved 
her " 

He  lifted  his  hand  from  his  eyes  and  looked  at  her  sadly 
and  searchingly. 

"  Yes,  I  loved  her!  "  he  answered,  "  with  a  love  you  have 
never  known.  With  a  love  you  will  never  know!  " 

Her  head  drooped.  Her  slim  white  hands  clasped  and 
unclasped  themselves  restlessly. 

"  Poor  Jacynth !  "  he  said,  in  a  strange  half-sighing  tone. 
"  With  all  your  plans  for  your  own  happiness  you  have 
missed  the  best  of  life — and  I,  with  all  my  sorrows,  still 
hold  the  chief  prize !  I  would  not  change  my  griefs  for  your 
joys — no,  not  for  the  whole  world!  I  would  not  lose  the 
memory  of  the  woman  I  loved — and  love — for  all  your 
social  triumphs!  You  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  a  man 
to  feel  that  a  sweet  and  sinless  woman's  life  has  been  linked 
to  his  own  in  the  sacrament  of  marriage;  you  do  not  know, 
— how  should  you! — that  even  death  itself  fails  to  destroy 
such  love  if  it  be  true.  And  with  all  your  wealth  and  in- 
fluence and  power  I  pity  you !  " 

She  smiled. 

"  Not  half  so  much,"  she  said, — "  as  /  pity  you!  " 

And  she  threw  back  her  head  with  an  air  of  sudden  de- 
fiance. 

"  I  pity  you,"  she  went  on,  "  because  you  are  only  half 
a  man, — because  your  stupid  religion  has  chilled  your  blood 
and  taught  you  to  measure  out  natural  feelings  by  rule  and 
line, — because  you  always  turn  to  the  deaf  blind  Fancy  you 
call  God,  and  ask  It  whether  you  may  or  may  not  be  happy! 
It  answers  nothing!  It  does  not  care!  Yet  your  own  imag- 
ination, speaking  for  It,  says:  'No,  you  shall  not  do  this^or 
that;  you  must  not  love, — you  may  not  hate!  The  lion 
may  tear  his  prey, — but  you  must  give  food  to  your  enemy! 


388  HOLY     ORDERS 

The  bird  may  choose  many  mates,  but  you  must  only  have 
one  in  youth  and  in  age.'  And  so  you  live  in  restraint  and 
make  yourself  miserable  for  a  dream!— while  all  the  world 
of  nature  smiles  on  in  perfect  happiness  without  any  of  man's 
laws  to  control  it.  Its  only  law  is  to  live,  love  and  die; 
and  after  death  it  gives  no  proof  of  any  further  kind  of  life 
that  any  sensible  person  would  wish  for.  Dead  things  rot 
away  and  breed  germs  of  disease, — I  would  not  care  to  live 
again  as  a  microbe!  " 

Her  tragedy-queen  expression  here  broke  up  into  charming 
dimples  of  mirth  which  made  her  lovely  face  still  lovelier, 
and  she  laughed. 

"  No,  Mr.  Everton!  It's  no  use  your  looking  so  solemn! 
Neither  you  nor  any  man  of  your  calling  will  ever  persuade 
me  that  it  is  not  good  to  live  one's  life  according  to  one's 
own  temperament, — it  is  the  lesson  of  nature, — and  if  God 
made  nature,  then  it  is  the  teaching  of  God.  The  Bible 
and  all  the  codes  of  morality  are  merely  man's  work.  You 
see  I've  read  heaps  of  books  since  I  left  Shadbrook;  and  I've 
had  lessons  from  the  best  teachers  in  languages,  music,  litera- 
ture, card-playing  and  all  the  fine-lady  accomplishments, — 
and  I've  learned  as  many  '  up-to-date '  things  as  I  can, — but 
my  creed  is  the  same  as  it  always  was — live,  love  and  die — 
and  there  an  end !  It  is  enough !  " 

He  stood  quite  motionless,  wondering  a  little  at  the  melo- 
dramatic passion  she  had  thrown  into  the  utterance  of  her 
words, — then  he  remembered  she  had  been  on  the  stage. 
And  he  questioned  whether  her  brusque  admission  of  utter 
atheism  was  only  part  of  the  society  role  she  had  elected  to 
play,  or  whether  it  was  her  real  attitude  of  mind.  Had  she 
any  real  attitude  of  mind?  Many  a  woman  has  none,  pre- 
ferring to  feign  the  similitude  of  the  mind  of  another  person. 
This,  he  divined,  was  likely  to  be  the  case  with  Jacynth,  and 
her  glib  utterances  concerning  nature  and  God  were  probably 
the  mere  reflection,  as  in  a  mirror,  of  the  mind  of  her  '  great 
friend,'  Claude  Ferrers. 

"  You  say  I  don't  know  what  love  is," — she  went  on,  "  you 
are  quite  right.  I  don't  know  what  your  kind  of  love  is — it 
must  be  some  idea  of  your  own,  for  it  doesn't  exist  among  the 
men  and  women  of  the  world.  Love  that  lasts  for  ever 
would  be  terribly  boresome !  "  here  she  smiled  enchantingly — 


HOLY    ORDERS  389 

"  besides  it  doesn't  last  and  can't  last!— if  it  did,  we  should 
not  see  so  many  disconsolate  widows  and  widowers  marry- 
ing again!  ^And  so  far  as  women  go,  I  always  notice  that 
if  a  woman  is  really  fond  of  a  man  he  at  once  avoids  her  and 
goes  after  somebody  else.  Now  men  rave  about  me  because 
I  don't  care  for  any  one  of  them  in  particular — they're  all 
alike  in  my  opinion.  And  that  you  should  pity  me,  makes 
me  laugh !  It  does  really !  Because  as  I've  already  told  you, 
the  one  to  be  pitied  is  yourself.  /  am  perfectly  happy." 

"  For  how  long  will  your  happiness  last?  "  he  asked,  sud- 
denly. 

She  gave  a  playful  gesture  of  indifference. 

"  Till  I  lose  my  beauty," — she  answered,  "  but  when  that 
happens,  a  little  overdose  of  morphia  will  finish  me  off  pret- 
tily before  age  and  ugliness  fairly  set  in." 

"Then  with  no  heart,  you  have  no  hope,  Jacynth!"  he 
said,  sadly. 

Her  laughter  rang  out  like  a  little  chime. 

"  Heart  is  a  mistake — hope  is  a  mistake,"  she  rejoined, 
lightly;  "If  you  have  heart,  everybody  despises  you  for  a 
fool, — if  you  hope  for  anything,  people  take  pleasure  in  dis- 
appointing you!  The  only  way  to  live  with  comfort  is  to 
get  all  you  can  for  yourself  out  of  everything  and  every  one, 
and  enjoy  what  you  get !  In  the  social  life  of  to-day  there's 
no  time  for  any  sentiment." 

She  pulled  some  roses  out  of  a  vase  close  by  and  began 
putting  them  together  in  a  cluster. 

"  Ever  since  I  left  Shadbrook,"  she  said,  "  I  have  had  no 
time  to  think  about  the  past.  The  actor  I  ran  away  with 
introduced  me  to  his  friends  as  his  pupil, — it  was  understood 
that  I  was  studying  for  the  stage  under  his  care.  We  went 
to  Paris  for  a  time, — and,  Dan's  child  was  born  there,  dead. 
That  was  a  piece  of  luck  for  me.  But  if  it  had  lived  I 
should  have  sent  it  to  Dan.  He  was  such  a  curious  sort  of 
fellow  that  I  think  he  would  have  loved  it." 

She  paused,  half  expecting  him  to  speak;  but  his  face  was 
averted  from  her,  and  he  said  nothing. 

"  Well !  "  she  resumed,  somewhat  impatiently, — "  then  I 
came  back  to  London  and  made  an  instant  success.  I  had 
nothing  to  do  but  wear  lovely  frocks  and  move  my  arms  and 
legs  about  in  different  postures,  and  crowds  came  just  to 


390  HOLY     ORDERS 

stare  at  me.  Israel  Nordstein  was  the  owner  of  the  theater 
at  which  I  appeared — he  had  great  influence  with  the  '  Up- 
per Ten  '  because  so  many  of  them  borrowed  money  of  him ; 
and  he  made  me  the  fashion.  And  then, — when  any  number 
of  men  were  in  love  with  me,  peers  and  statesmen  and  all 
sorts,  he  suddenly  took  me  off  the  stage  and  married  me. 
And  here  I  am, — well  established  for  life! — my  husband  set- 
tled ten  thousand  a  year  upon  me  on  our  marriage, — and  he 
gives  me  so  much  besides  that  I  hardly  ever  touch  my  own 
allowance.  I  have  jewels  worth  a  hundred  thousand  pounds, 
— horses,  carriages,  motor-cars,  a  lovely  yacht,  a  box  at  the 
opera  and  everything  I  want;  I  was  presented  at  Court  by 
a  tiptop  peeress  who  never  asked  who  I  was  or  where  I  came 
from, — she  owes  my  husband  heaps  of  money! — and  I  got 
into  the  swim  at  once.  Just  a  year  after  my  marriage  the 
newspapers  were  full  of  the  account  of  the  murder  of  your 
poor  wife, — and  I  was  horribly  shocked !  I  knew  Dan  must 
have  done  it, — and  I  was  a  little  afraid  lest  he  should  come 
to  London  and  perhaps  find  me  out.  But — with  my  usual 
good  fortune — my  car  ran  over  him  the  very  night  of 
the  murder!  Wasn't  that  strange!  It  makes  one  believe  in 
Providence  after  all !  " 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  sudden  and  close  scrutiny. 

"  And  have  you  never  thought," — he  said — "  that  you, 
Jacynth,  are  mainly  responsible  for  that  murder? — more  so 
than  for  his  death  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  head  in  haughty  amaze. 

"  I?  "  she  ejaculated;  "  Why,  what  had  I  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  You  made  Dan  unfaithful  to  his  wife " 

"  No  woman  makes  a  man  unfaithful  to  his  wife  unless 

he  is  more  than  willing  to  be  faithless," she  interrupted 

him,  disdainfully — "  I  was  certainly  not  to  blame  for  being 
handsomer  than  Jennie !  " 

"  You  prevaricate,"  he  said,  with  some  annoyance — "  His 
infidelity  killed  her " 

She  pointed  her  cluster  of  roses  reproachfully  at  him. 

"  No !  "  she  said,  emphatically,  "  His  infidelity  would 
never  have  killed  her  if  she  had  never  known  of  it!  Who 
was  to  blame  for  telling?  Your  wife!  Your  wife!  No 
one  else! " 

His  hand  clenched  the  woodwork  of  the  piano  against 


HOLY    ORDERS  391 

which  he  leaned, — if  he  could  have  flung  the  assertion  back 
at  her  as  a  lie  it  would  have  relieved  the  tension  of  his  nerves, 
but  he  knew  he  could  not. 

"  If  every  woman  in  London  to-day  were  told  of  her  hus- 
band's infidelities,"  went  on  Jacynth,  still  pointing  her  roses 
at  him,  "  and  died  of  the  news,  the  streets  would  be  strewn 
with  dead  bodies !  " 

And  her  lips  parted  in  a  little  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Dear  Parson  Everton !  I  wish  you  would  be  happy ! 
It's  so  easy !  The  world  is  so  pleasant,  and  so  full  of  pretty 
things!  The  past  is  past!  Try  and  like  me  a  little  in  the 
future!" 

Over  his  pale  face  swept  a  shadow;  the  shadow  of  an 
intense  repulsion  and  futile  wrath. 

"  Try  and  like  you ! "  he  echoed  bitterly, — "  Like 
you, " 

"Yes, — or  love  me! — which  you  please!"  she  answered 
gayly,  the  smile  dancing  with  jewel-like  radiance  in  her 
eyes — "But  don't  be  hard  upon  me!  You  ought  to  think 
better  of  me  than  you  do!  If  I  had  been  an  ugly  woman  I 
should  have  been  good,  I  suppose.  But  what's  the  use  of 
being  good  and  ugly  ?  Christ  was  very  kind  to  Mary  Mag- 
dalen,— she  was  wicked,  but  I'm  sure  she  was  beautiful. 
And  her  sins,  which  were  many,  were  forgiven  because  she 
loved  much.  That's  me!  I  love  much!  I  love  everything 
that  gives  me  pleasure !  Not  all  the  sermons  that  were  ever 
preached  could  ever  alter  me, — I  want  to  be  happy  as  long  as 
I  can  and  in  my  own  way, — " 

"Are  you  happy  in  your  marriage?"  he  demanded,  with 
an  almost  angry  abruptness. 

"  Of  course!  Why  should  I  not  be?  Isra  is  devoted  to 
me, — he's  old  and  not  much  to  look  at, — but  he  let's  me  do 
just  as  I  like " 

"I  see !  "  said  Everton,  with  quiet  scorn, — "  Life,  love 
and  death,  and  all  the  things  belonging  to  these,  are  summed 
up  for  you  in  '  doing  as  you  like  ' !  " 

She  laughed ;  a  soft  little  laugh  of  perfect  satisfaction. 

"  Exactly!  "  she  said — "  What  can  a  woman  want  more?  " 
And,  detaching  a  rose  from  the  little  bouquet  she  held,  she 
offered  it  to  him — "  Will  you  have  it?  " 

Swift  as  running  fire  his  thoughts  flew  back  to  the  mo- 


392  HOLY     ORDERS 

ment  when  his  wife  had  pinned  a  rosebud  in  his  coat  before 
she  had  gone  out  in  all  her  winsome  prettiness  innocently  and 
unwittingly  to  meet  a  cruel  death, — and  he  waved  away  her 
outstretched  hand  with  a  kind  of  horror. 

"  No,  no !  "  he  said,  in  low,  hoarse  tones, — "  Keep  your 
roses  for  the  men  who  let  you  fool  them,  Jacynth !  I  am  not 
one  of  them !  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  sudden  air  of  serious  musing. 

"  You  are  rather  unkind," — she  said  slowly, — "  Consider- 
ing that  I  have  made  you  famous." 

He  started  as  though  he  had  been  stung. 

"You!     You— you  have " 

"  Worked  you  up," — she  rejoined,  with  tranquil  blunt- 
ness.  "  Given  you  a  big  boom  in  my  husband's  newspaper 
syndicate.  That's  what  I've  done.  Do  you  suppose  you 
would  ever  have  been  heard  of  as  a  preacher  if  I  hadn't?" 

He  flung  out  his  hands  with  an  unconsciously  desperate 
action. 

"  My  God !  "  he  cried,  passionately "  This  is  the  hard- 
est blow  of  all !  I  would  rather  have  died  than  owe  anything 
to  you ! " 


CHAPTER   XXI 

A  MOMENT'S  silence  followed. 

*»•  She  looked  at  him  and  smiled.  Her  eyes,  large  and 
luminous,  seemed  to  hold  strange  thoughts  and  memories 
mirrored  in  their  wells  of  living  light. 

"  Men  are  proverbially  ungrateful,"  she  said  at  last,  her 
voice  breaking  the  stillness  with  a  charm  of  honey-sweet 
sound,  "  And  you  are  no  exception  to  the  rule,  Mr.  Everton ! 
You  would  rather  have  died  than  owe  anything  to  me,  you 
say?  Well,  as  it  happens,  you  owe  everything  to  me; — 
everything  that  makes  you  known  to  the  world !  Ever  since 
Dan  murdered  your  wife  I  have  pitied  you  in  your  loneliness 
at  Shadbrook — and  I  have  tried  to  help  you  on  in  all  the 
best  ways  I  could  think  of.  I  have  striven  to  fill  your  life 
and  make  you  forget  your  grief  in  ambition.  I  knew  you 
were  a  clever  man  and  a  good  man, — and  that  both  your 
cleverness  and  goodness  were  lost  in  the  wretched  little  vil- 
lage where  your  lot  is  cast.  When  you  preached  for  the  first 
time  after  your  wife's  death,  I  had  a  special  representative 
of  the  press  sent  down  to  hear  you ;  your  sermon  was  reported 
in  quite  a  dozen  newspapers,  and  that  was  the  beginning  of 
the  '  boom.'  It  has  been  very  successful  so  far, — you  are 
named  everywhere  as  one  among  the  few  great  preachers  of 
the  day, — your  influence  is  widening, — your  theories  are 
quoted  and  admired,  but, — if  you  are  tired  of  your  growing 
celebrity,  it  can  be  easily  stopped, — one  word  from  me,  and 
neither  the  press  nor  the  world  will  know  you  any  more! " 

As  she  spoke  she  clenched  her  hand  and  unclenched  it 
again  as  though  she  allowed  some  worthless  thing  to  fall  to 
the  ground. 

He  looked  full  at  her. 

"  Speak  that  word  then!  "  he  said,—"  And  without  delay! 
I  would  prefer  never  to  preach  again  than  be  degraded  by 
the  thought  that  you  are  at  work  to  make  my  preaching 
known !  I  would  wish  every  word  I  ever  utter  to  sink  into 

393 


394  HOLY     ORDERS 

oblivion  rather  than  that  you  should  help  to  keep  it  in  the 
public  memory!  Let  me  remain  in  my  own  obscurity,  dis- 
regarded and  forgotten, — but  spare  me  the  indignity  and  suf- 
fering of  any  obligation  to  you !  " 

His  breath  came  and  went  quickly ;  he  was  strongly  moved. 
She  gave  him  a  half-amused,  half-surprised  glance. 

"  Why  are  you  so  bitter  with  me  ?  "  she  asked ;  "  Because 
I  am  what  I  am? — or — because  Dan  Kiernan  was  my 
lover?" 

He  uttered  a  sharp  exclamation.  Something  rose  in  him 
that  would  not  be  gainsaid.  He  went  up  to  her  and  took  her 
by  the  hands  almost  roughly. 

"  If  you  will  have  the  truth  as  a  man  may  tell  it  you," 
he  said — "because  Dan  Kiernan  was  your  lover!  Because 
you  were  a  living  lie  to  me  when  you  knelt  before  me  at  the 
Communion  Table  and  took  God's  Holy  Name  in  vain !  Be- 
cause you,  a  child,  a  girl  whose  aspect  was  that  of  purity  it- 
self, could  give  yourself  without  any  thought  or  after  regret 
to  a  brutal  sot " 

"  Have  I  not  told  you  I  was  drunk  ?  " — she  said — "  You 
forget  that!  " 

He  dropped  her  hands.  Drunk!  Yes,  she  had  told  him. 
She,— this  exquisite  dainty  woman  of  perfect  form  and  feature 
had  begun  her  callous  career  of  shame  in  Drink.  Bewilder- 
ing thoughts  flew  through  his  brain, — he  had  meant  to  re- 
proach her, — should  he  not  rather,  in  the  very  name  of 
Christianity  itself,  compassionate  and  forgive  her?  Had  he 
not  pronounced  a  pardon  from  his  own  pulpit  on  his  wife's 
murderer,  Dan  Kiernan  ?  The  very  words  he  had  said  came 
back  to  him  in  a  flash  of  recollection :  "  I  fasten  no  blame 
on  the  memory  of  the  evil-doer  of  the  deed  that  has  left  me 
desolate,  for  he  never  was,  and  never  could  be  considered  as 
fully  responsible  for  his  actions.  A  man  drugged  by  poison 
which  the  laws  of  the  realm  most  wickedly  allow  to  be  sold  to 
him  as  pure  and  wholesome  liquor,  cannot  be  held  as  per- 
sonally guilty  of  any  crime,-therefore  I  have  only  to  say  that 
even  as  God  has  punished  the  unhappy  sinner,  so  may  God 
forgive  him!  And  so  may  God  equally  forgive  all  sinners 
who  are  led  astray  by  sinners  worse  than  themselves ! " 

Did  not  this  apply  to  Jacynth  even  more  than  to  Dan? 
Then  he  dwelt  on  the  phrase:  '  Even  as  God  has  punished 


HOLY    ORDERS  395 

the  unhappy  sinner,  so  may  God  forgive  him ! '  In  Jacynth's 
case  God  had  not  punished  sin  but  had  apparently  rewarded 
it.  Then  was  he  to  be  her  judge?  And  while  his  mind  was 
swept  by  cross  currents  of  contradictory  feeling,  her  voice, 
calm  and  a  little  sorrowful,  went  on : 

"  You  make  no  allowances  for  me,"  she  said, — "  And  in 
that  I  think  you  fail  in  charity !  I  know  how  strongly  you 
have  always  fought  against  the  drink  curse, — and  I  thought 
I  might  perhaps  help  you,  now  that  I  have  plenty  of  money 
and  influence.  It  has  been  a  hope  and  dream  of  mine  that  I 
might  be  useful  to  you, — and  so  be  a  sort  of  '  best  girl  in  the 
village '  after  all !  That  is  why  I  have  done  my  utmost  to 
bring  your  preaching  into  public  notice.  I  wanted  you  to  be 
heard  in  London,  and  I  asked  that  particular  Bishop  you  met 
yesterday  to  write  and  invite  you  to  preach  for  the  charity  in 
which  so  many  people  of  distinction  are  interested " 

"  You  again !  It  is  through  you  I  came  ?  "  he  said,  bit- 
terly. 

A  flicker  of  disdain  for  his  slowness  of  comprehension 
passed  over  her  face.  He  was  entangled  in  her  meshes  and 
yet  did  not  appear  to  realize  his  own  helplessness. 

"  Through  me,  of  course !  "  she  answered,  quietly ;  "  It  is 
generally  through  a  woman  that  a  man  makes  his  mark, 
though  he  will  never  own  it!  I  wanted  your  coming  to  be 
the  beginning  of  a  great  social  campaign  for  you, — for  there 
is  quite  as  much  to  be  done  among  the  upper  classes  as 
among  the  lower,  where  the  Drink  is  concerned.  Dan  Kier- 
nan  was  a  drunkard,  but  he  was  not  more  so  than  many  a  fine 
gentleman  I  could  name !  " 

Her  delicate  eyebrows  drew  together  in  a  little  pucker  of 
contempt. 

"The  'lower  classes'!"  she  said,— "  That  is  the  name 
given  to  the  best  and  biggest  half  of  the  people!  The  '  lower 
classes'  are  ever  so  much  kinder,  more  patient,  and  more 
temperate  than  the  '  upper  ten '  of  to-day.  I  say  this  from 
my  heart, — I  who  came  from  the  '  lower '  and  am  now  in 
the  '  upper '  ranks,  through  the  power  of  my  husband's  money. 
The  '  lower  classes '  drink  because  they  have  nothing  else 
to  do  out  of  working  hours,— and  they  crowd  the  public- 
houses  because  their  homes  are  often  comfortless.  But  the 
4  upper  class '  drunkards  drink  for  sheer  vice  and  bestiality, 


396  HOLY     ORDERS 

women  as  well  as  men, — and  I  have  seen  so  much  of  ft 
since  I  married  that  I  am  angry  to  think  that  the  poor 
should  always  be  blamed  for  this  failing,  when  the  rich  are 
often  twenty  times  worse.  Most  of  the  men  I  meet  in  so- 
ciety seem  to  use  whisky  as  a  perfume !  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  vague  surprise  that  she  could  make 
a  jest  of  the  vice  that  had  been  her  own  ruin.  She  laughed 
a  little. 

"  It's  a  fact!  "  she  said;  "  Everybody  doesn't  drink  beer, 
but  everybody  drinks  whisky,  even  girls  and  women.  Their 
doctors  order  it  for  them,  and  tell  them  it's  the  only  '  safe ' 
drink.  Safe !  "  And  she  gave  a  gesture  of  cynical  impatience. 
"  They  might  as  well  say  that  to  put  your  hand  in  a  lion's 
mouth  is  safe  if  only  the  lion  will  promise  not  to  bite !  And 
whisky, — by  medical  advice! — is  always  on  the  sideboard  in 
every  dining-room  or  smoke-room, — it  would  be  difficult  to 
find  any  statesman,  politician,  diplomat,  financier,  or  for  that 
matter  any  clergyman,  in  London  who  would  refuse  a  glass 
of  whisky-and-soda  at  any  hour  of  the  day.  Not  all  the 
clergy  are  set  against  the  drink,  you  know!  Some  of  them 
are  good  old  humbugs,  7  can  tell  you!  They  talk  a  lot  in 
their  Church  congresses  about  the  '  national  curse ' — but 
many  of  the  very  fellows  who  talk,  have  invested  money  in 
breweries  and  distilleries,  and  get  a  good  slice  of  their  in- 
comes out  of  the  '  curse '  they  condemn.  So  encouraging  to 
the  cause  of  religion,  isn't  it,  to  see  such  hypocrites  in  the 
pulpit  preaching  '  truth  ' !  " 

Everton  was  perplexed  and  embarrassed.  It  was  not  easy 
to  answer  her  or  to  deny  her  words.  Moreover,  she  spoke 
not  at  all  like  the  Jacynth  of  the  old  days,  though  even  then 
she  had  always  possessed  a  certain  fluency  of  utterance,  but 
like  a  woman  of  the  world  whose  experience  had  taught  her 
much  that  could  not  be  contradicted. 

"  I  never  get  drunk  now," — she  continued,  with  an  almost 
brutal  frankness;  "  You  might  perhaps  think  I  do, — so  I  just 
tell  you  at  once  that  I  don't.  I've  plenty  of  opportunities 
for  drinking — but  I  don't  take  them.  However,  I  should 
not  scandalize  '  high  '  society  very  much  if  I  did, — because  so 
many  '  distinguished  '  persons  would  be  in  the  same  boat  with 
me.  They  don't  reel  about  the  street  and  curse  and  swear  as 
Dan  used  to  do, — some  of  them  take  a  drug  to  counteract  all 


HOLY    ORDERS  397 

that— but  they've  got  into  the  habit  of  a  standing-straight, 
set-faced  drunkenness  which  almost  disguises  the  fact  that 
they  are  drunk.  I  know  a  Duchess  who  is  in  that  condition 
nearly  every  night,  and  when  she  goes  out  to  dinner  you  can 
always  tell  if  she's  very  much  '  on  '  because  she  tells  awful 
stories  that  shock  every  one  at  table,  with  a  perfectly  pale, 
grave  face  as  though  she  were  reading  prayers !  People  think 
she's  eccentric,  and  say  '  Poor  dear  Duchess  1 ' — but  the  mat- 
ter with  the  poor  dear  Duchess  is  that  she's  drunk.  That's 
all!" 

She  laughed  again,  and  went  on  with  a  kind  of  quick  reck- 
lessness : 

'  The  actor  who  took  me  away  from  Shadbrook  was  a 
drunkard  of  the  '  artistic '  type, — he  never  turned  color  or 
tumbled  about, — he  simply  sat  and  talked  by  the  hour  to  him- 
self about  his  own  genius  till  it  made  one  perfectly  sick  to 
hear  him.  I  married  Israel  Nordstein  quite  as  much  because 
he  was  a  sober  man  as  because  he  was  a  rich  one.  He  never 
loses  his  head — not  he!  He  would  not  be  so  successful  in 
money-making  if  he  did.  I  watch  drunken  men  fall  into  the 
financial  nets  he  spreads  for  them — and  I  am  glad  when  they 
are  trapped.  It  serves  them  right!  " 

A  sudden  flash  of  wicked  malice  lit  up  her  eyes,  and  Ever- 
ton  saw  it.  As  in  a  defective  mirror  which  reflects  only  the 
ugly  distortion  of  a  face,  he  obtained  for  one  instant  the  view 
of  her  whole  nature,  and  realized  that  the  object  she  had  in 
using  her  influence  for  him  and  creating  a  public  interest  in 
his  name  and  work  was  not,  as  she  had  professed,  to  do  him 
good,  but  only  to  serve  her  own  ends, — that  she  might  as- 
sume to  show  to  the  world  a  new  kind  of  conquest, — a  pro- 
tege whom  as  a  preacher  she  might  claim  to  patronize,  and  in 
whose  possible  success  she  would  assuredly  assert  her  own 
social  share.  And,  as  he  mentally  got  a  grasp  of  the  situa- 
tion, he  rose  to  it  with  cool  resolution  and  nerve. 

"  So,  though  you  tell  me  that  I  make  no  allowance  for  you, 
Jacynth,  and  that  I  fail  in  charity  towards  you,"  he  said ; 
"  you  yourself  have  no  pity  for  others  who  are  victimized 
and  fooled  by  the  very  same  evil  that  has  been  your  destruc- 
tion !  And  yet  you  would  help  me  in  my  work !  Impossible ! 
I  could  not  travel  along  your  lines !  I  should  feel  compelled 
to  make  public  protest  against  your  husband's  '  trapping '  of 


398  HOLY     ORDERS 

drugged  and  poisoned  men!  I  should  judge  both  your 
husband  and  you  as  ten  times  worse  than  they !  " 

Her  face  crimsoned, — she  lifted  her  beautiful  head  with  a 
haughty  movement  of  indignation.  He  held  up  his  hand. 

"  Hear  me  for  one  moment,  Jacynth !  Remember  that  to 
me  you  are  nothing  but  the  Shadbrook  village  girl, — that  all 
your  wealth  makes  you  no  whit  better  or  higher  in  my  eyes, 
because,  if  anything,  your  social  position  has  not  improved 
your  character  so  much  as  it  has  hardened  it.  You  speak  of 
the  vulgarities  and  indecencies  of  that  section  of  upper-class 
society  in  which,  most  strangely,  you  are  now  elected  to 
move !  I  believe  such  vulgarities  and  indecencies  do  exist, — 
but  why  ?  Because  money, — money  in  millions,  such  as  your 
husband  possesses,  buys  an  entrance  into  society  for  women 

like  you!  Women,  selfish,  cruel  and  vain! to  whom  the 

heart  of  an  honest  man  is  no  more  than  a  clod  of  clay  to 
trample  on, — for  whom  love  is  a  delusion,  and  God  Himself 
a  fraud!" 

He  spoke  with  heat  and  passion, — his  voice  trembled.  She 
looked  at  him  intently, — there  was  a  faint  smile  on  her  lips. 

"  You  talk  of  my  work," — he  went  on "  and  of  your 

wish  to  be  useful  to  me.  Why,  you  have  cut  the  very  ground 
from  under  my  feet  by  telling  me  that  the  praise  of  the  press 
is  your  doing! — the  mere  'boom'  of  your  husband's  syn- 
dicated newspapers !  Who,  that  is  sane,  cares  for  any  praise 
in  the  press  if  it  is  only  the  result  of  an  individual  influ- 
ence?" 

"  It  never  is  more  than  that  nowadays,"  she  murmured, 
with  ironical  meekness ;  "  Both  praise  and  blame  are  admin- 
istered similarly,  but  the  blame  is  more  easily  secured,  and 
costs  less  than  the  praise !  " 

A  shadow  of  stern  pain  darkened  his  face. 

"  Jacynth," — he  said,  and  his  grave  blue  eyes  expressed  a 

mingled  sorrow  and  entreaty "  Wayward  girl  whom  I 

would  have  saved  from  ruin  had  it  been  possible! — I  never 
thought  I  should  have  to  ask  a  favor  at  your  hands,  but 
you  have  thrust  this  hard  position  on  me !  And  so  I  ask  you 
to  dismiss  me  altogether  from  your  thoughts,  and  never  to 
speak  of  me  to  any  '  persons  of  influence '  as  you  consider 
them,  or  attempt  to  help  me,  through  the  press  or  by  any 


HOLY    ORDERS  399 

other  means  whatsoever!  Let  me  go  my  own  way  unaided; 
let  me  sink  back  into  the  obscurity  of  Shadbrook,  from 
whence  1  should  never  have  emerged !  " 

She  was  silent.  Some  small  jewels  sewn  among  the  deli- 
cate laces  of  her  gown  sparkled  restlessly  with  the  quick 
heaving  of  her  bosom. 

"  I  am  content,"— he  went  on,  slowly—"  to  persuade  and 
encourage  the  few  rather  than  the  many.  Mine  has  always 

been  the  very  limited  area  of  labor " 

"I  have  widened  it,"  she  said,  insistently—"  You  know 
I  have!  And  you  cannot  undo  what  I  have  done!  You 
will  always  owe  something  to  me !  " 

^  He  sighed  heavily.  A  sense  of  unreality  had  come  upon 
him  like  the  first  vague  feeling  of  'wandering'  which  af- 
fects those  who  sicken  for  fever. 

"I  shall  try  to  discharge  the  debt,"  he  answered,  "by 
causing  myself  to  be  forgotten  as  quickly  as  possible." 

A  faint  color  flushed  her  face;  then  ebbed  away,  leaving 
her  very  pale. 

"How  unjust  you  are!"  she  murmured — "Yes, — how 
unjust, — how  unkind!  You  would  make  others  suffer  for 
what  to  you  is  a  personal  matter  of  annoyance! — you  would 
deprive  the  social  world  of  your  inspiration  and  eloquence, 
simply  because  I — poor  Jacynth! — have  the  means  and  in- 
fluence to  make  that  world  listen  to  you " 

He  made  a  movement  of  impatience. 
"  It  would  never  listen," — he  said — "  it  never  listens. 
You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do.  It  never  listened  to  Christ 
Himself.  He  preached  to  the  People;  not  to  the  'social 
world.'  The  social  world  battens  on  lies;  without  such 
provender  it  would  starve.  Truth  is  its  specter  of  famine, 
and  any  preacher  of  truth — any  preacher  who  disregards  per- 
sonal considerations  and  conventionalities  is  excluded  from 
its  centers.  The  very  Bishops  and  Archbishops  lend  their 
aid  to  silence  him  effectually!  Do  I  not  know  this?  Do  you 
not  know  it?  You  do!  You  are  as  conscious  as  I  am  that 
I  could  never  preach  to  your  '  social '  set  without  becoming 
a  firebrand  of  offense.  For  to  '  an  evil  and  adulterous  gen- 
eration '  I  should  be  bound  to  give  the  '  sign '  of  their  com- 
ing doom." 


400  HOLY     ORDERS 

Her  eyebrows  went  up  quizzically. 

"  How  solemn !  "  she  exclaimed,  laughingly — "  Do  you 
really  think  a  '  doom  '  is  coming  ?  For  them  ?  For  me  ?  " 

He  lifted  his  eyes.  There  was  a  deep  stillness  of  thought 
in  them, — a  look  that  he  himself  was  unaware  of, — a  look 
that  checked  the  laughter  on  her  lips,  and  sent  a  faint  tremor 
through  her  veins  as  of  sudden  cold. 

"  A  doom  is  coming !  "  he  said,  slowly — "  A  doom  is  com- 
ing on  the  modern  world,  because  a  doom  is  bound  to  come! 
Not  because  of  this  or  that  form  of  creed  or  preaching;  not 
because  of  the  things  of  prophecy  or  the  progress  of  time, 
but  because  of  the  Law.  The  eternal  and  Obvious  Lawl — 
so  much  the  Obvious  that  it  is  passed  over  as  a  thing  un- 
known and  Unseen!  The  Law  which  steadily  makes  for 
good,  and  as  steadily  discards  evil, — the  Law  which  evolves 
Right  and  destroys  Wrong, — it  is  always  at  work,  Jacynth! 
— and  it  will  work  upon  you,  as  upon  all,  in  due  season. 
For  even  if  there  were  not  a  God,  there  is, — without  doubt 
or  denial — the  inevitable  Law !  " 

He  broke  off, — something  seemed  to  affect  him  with  a 

sudden  sense  of  foreboding.  "  Jacynth," and  he  moved 

a  step  towards  her — "  I  wish  I  could  hope  good  things  for 
you " 

"  Repentance  counts  for  nothing,  I  suppose?  "  she  queried, 
lightly. 

"  Repentance!    You  do  not  repent!    You  never  will!  " 

"  Why  should  I  ?  If  I  have  offended  God  or  the  Law,  the 
result  of  my  offenses  is  very  satisfactory ! " 

He  stood  still,  looking  at  her. 

"  The  result  is  not  yet," — he  said. 

She  smiled. 

"  And  when  my  '  doom '  comes,  it  will  be  because  I  am 
base-born  but  beautiful  enough  to  make  men  fall  in  love  with 
me,  and  because  I  got  drunk  in  my  girlhood!"  she  ejacu- 
lated ;  "  What  a  good,  kind  God  it  must  be  that  punishes  a 
poor  human  creature  for  no  heavier  faults  than  these !  One 
might  as  well  murder  a  child  for  being  pretty  and  for  eating 
too  many  sweets.  /  would  not  be  so  unkind! — why  should 
the  God  you  preach  of  be  worse  than  I  ?  " 

He  was  silent.  The  audacious  remark  of  Mrs.  Moddley's 
hopeful  son  recurred  to  him — "  Please,  sir,  mother  says  she 


HOLY    ORDERS  y  401 

don't  see  'ow  God  can  bear  to  live  watchin'  all  the  poor 
folks  die  what  He's  made  Hisself !  "  There  was  something 
not  without  point  in  the  suggestion.  Human  error,  human 
folly,  human  happiness  or  misery  seem  such  slight  matters  in 
comparison  with  the  tremendous  forces  of  the  Universe,  roll- 
ing their  great  wheels  eternally  through  endless  space, — and 
yet  we  cannot  escape  from  the  fact  that  humanity  itself  is 
part  of  the  mystic  plan, — so  much  so  that  even  the  thoughts 
of  one  human  brain  may  revolutionize  a  nation,  or,  as  in  the 
teaching  of  Christ,  a  world. 

"  You  argue  as  an  animal  or  an  insect  might  argue  if  it 
could  speak,"  he  said,  presently — "  Not  as  a  woman,  to  whom 
God  has  given  an  immortal  soul!  What  you  have  done — 
what  you  are  doing  with  that  soul  is  between  yourself  and 
God.  Between  yourself  and  God!  Remember!  For  as 
surely  as  we  two  stand  here  the  moment  will  come  when 
there  will  be  nothing  in  life  or  death  for  you  but  this: 
Yourself  and  God !  No  friend  or  lover  will  then  be  near  to 
counsel  or  command, — you  will  be  alone,  Jacynth, — alone 
with  the  Almighty  Power  whom  your  very  thoughts  blas- 
pheme!" 

She  smiled  proudly  at  him. 

"  So  be  it! "  she  said "  I  shall  not  care!  For  if  He 

is  All  Mighty,  surely  He  made  me  what  I  am! " 

She  drew  herself  up  with  an  air  of  defiance — her  beauty 
seemed  to  glow  and  burn  with  a  kind  of  inward  radiance. 
He  gazed  at  her  for  a  moment,  fascinated, — then  a  faint 
shuddering  sense  of  repugnance  stole  over  him,  and  he  in- 
stinctively recoiled  from  her  as  though  he  had  seen  some  bril- 
liant colored  snake  lift  its  head  from  a  thicket  ready  to 
sting.  She  saw  the  movement,  and  bit  her  rosy  under-lip 
vexed  ly. 

"  How  you  hate  me!  "  she  murmured — "  Not  all  the  good 
I  have  tried  to  do  for  you  would  ever  move  you  to  a  kind 
thought  of  me!  Do  you  think  you  are  quite  just?  Or  even 
quite  Christian?  But  there!  I  will  not  worry  you  any 
more.  You  shall  go  your  own  way.  You  shall  keep  to  your 
narrow  round  of  work  in  Shadbrook, — miserable,  mean  little 
Shadbrook! — I  promise  you  that  you  shall  be  forgotten, — 
even  by  me, — after  to-day !  " 

He  bent  his  head. 


402  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  So  it  will  be  best,"  he  answered. 

Suddenly  she  went  straight  up  to  him  and  laid  a  hand  on 
his  arm.  She  raised  her  face, — that  lovely  pure  oval  of  per- 
fect pearl  and  rose,  with  the  large  eyes  lighting  it  up  like 
stars, — till  it  was  close  to  his  own. 

"  Parson  Everton,"  she  said,  in  a  half  whisper, — "  I  be- 
lieve you  are  afraid  of  me !  " 

He  met  her  bewitching  glance  with  a  sad  steadfastness. 
He  knew  his  own  strength  and  weakness,  and  made  no 
hypocritical  pretense  to  himself  of  being  '  not  as  other  men 
are.' 

"  You  are  right,"  he  replied,  in  cold,  quiet  tones — "  I  am 
afraid  of  you.  I  am  not  such  a  coward  as  to  refuse  to 
admit  it." 

A  smile  trembled  on  the  sweet  mouth. 

"You  might — even  you! — might  love  me  a  little  some 
day! "  she  murmured. 

His  eyes  looked  down  into  hers  unflinchingly. 

"  If  I  were  made  drunk, — as  you  were  when  you  gave 
yourself  to  Dan  Kiernan,"  he  said,  with  stern  and  deliberate 
emphasis — "  I  might  love  you  as  other  men  do, — for  the 
moment!  And  that  moment  would  be  my  soul's  dam' 
nation  1 " 

She  drew  herself  away  from  him  with  a  gesture  of  anger 
and  offense.  Her  bosom  heaved  quickly. 

"  Oh,  you  are  cruel — you  are  brutal !  "  she  said ;  "  You 
are  not  a  true  Christian ! " 

He  caught  at  the  words  with  a  sudden  passion  of  feeling. 

"  True  Christian !  What  is  that  ?  Do  you  know  ?  Is  it 
to  be  a  man  whose  broadness  of  so-called  '  Christianity '  de- 
generates into  license  ?  Is  it  to  be  like  some  of  the  '  true 
Christian  '  clergy  who  are  so  anxious  for  the  '  social  purity ' 
of  the  nation  that  they  will  crowd  music-halls  to  applaud 
and  approve  a  half-nude  dancer  who  dares  to  make  indecent 
mockery  of  New  Testament  history  itself?  Is  it  to  dabble 
secretly  in  unnamable  vice  and  yet  present  an  external  front 
of  sham  virtue  to  the  world?  Is  it  to  tolerate  without  re- 
proach, women  like  you, — men  like  your  husband, — who 
pay  large  sums  of  money  to  Church  charities  in  order  that 
their  careers  of  social  vice  may  be  covered  and  condoned  by 
the  support  of  such  members  of  the  '  Christian '  ministry 


HOLY    ORDERS  403 

whose  consciences  can  be  bought  for  so  much  cash  down? 
Jacynth,  the  word  '  Christian  '  has  been  made  to  stand  for 
many  a  wicked  deed  since  the  hour  in  which  Judas  betrayed 
his  Master!  " 

She  stood  apart,  gazing  at  him  in  a  kind  of  whimsical 
surprise.  Then  she  appeared  to  gather  a  sort  of  stage  dignity 
about  her — an  air  such  as  that  assumed  by  some  tinsel  queen 
of  the  footlights  in  an  impressive  role. 

"  You  are  too  emotional,  Mr.  Everton," — she  said,  with 
quite  a  superior  air, — "  You  take  the  sins  of  society  too 
seriously.  And  you  are  rather  hard  on  your  own  clerical 
brethren.  They  have  a  very  difficult  part  to  play,  you  know ! 
They  have  to  preach  a  religion  which  very  few  educated 
people  believe  in; — and  then,  of  course,  society  doesn't  like 
to  be  preached  at  and  told  disagreeable  truths  unless  it's  done 
in  a  sort  of  theatrical  way,  when  they  think  it's  rather  fun — 
a  Sunday  morning  '  variety  entertainment.'  But  really  a 
clergyman  needs  to  have  plenty  of  tact  to  avoid  unpleas- 
antness. Take  Royal  people,  for  example! — suppose  a  par- 
son were  to  dare  to  tell  them  the  truth  of  themselves !  Why, 
he  would  never  be  asked  to  preach  before  Royalty  again! 
Think  what  a  disgrace  that  would  be  for  him !  Now  " — 
and  she  nodded  at  him  patronizingly, — "  If  you  had  only 
let  me  go  on  helping  you,  I  would  have  had  you  preach 
before  the  King !  I  could  easily  have  arranged  it." 

He  smiled  coldly  at  her  complete  effrontery. 

"  You  would  have  chosen  a  most  unsuitable  preacher," — 
he  said. 

"  Not  at  all !  I  could  have  told  you  exactly  what  to  say," 
and  she  laughed  like  an  amused  child — "  Pretty  and  pleas- 
ant things, about  peace  and  universal  harmony — things 

he  wouldn't  mind  hearing  just  for  ten  minutes;  how  kings 
are  always  the  Lord's  Anointed,  and  get  their  places  in 
heaven  before  any  one  else  has  a  chance, — and  how  their 
very  faults  only  arise  from  the  '  difficulties  of  their  position  ' ! 
That's  the  sort  of  thing  that  doesn't  offend.  Why,  with  a 
little  diplomacy  and  push  I  would  have  made  you  a  Bishop 
in  a  few  years!  Yet  you  prefer  the  obscurity  of  Shadbrook!  " 

"  As  one  may  prefer  heaven  to  hell,  I  prefer  the  obscurity 
of  Shadbrook," — he  answered. 

"And  you  shall  have  it!  "  she  said,  with  a  sudden  burst 


404  HOLY     ORDERS 

of  impatience — "  You  shall  never  again  come  out  of  it !  Be 
quite  sure  of  that!  But  to-day — just  for  to-day — be  kind 
tome!" 

He  looked  at  her.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  They 
welled  up  and  fell  down  her  fair  cheeks.  He  hesitated — 
then  went  up  to  her  gently  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Jacynth," — he  said — "  I  cannot  be  kind to  you,  I 

know  you  too  well !  I  doubt  you  too  much !  You  asked  me 
to  come  and  see  you  to-day,  and  I  came,  simply  as  your  former 
Vicar.  And  in  coming,  I  intended  to  point  out  to  you  what 
I  feel  to  be  the  truth — that  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  cruelty 
and  heartlessness,  and  the  secret  wickedness  of  your  relations 
with  Dan  Kiernan, — my  wife,"  he  paused,  and  a  shuddering 

sigh  broke  from  him "  my  poor  little  wife  would  not  have 

been  murdered.  I  have  imagined, — at  times, — that  her  death 
lies  quite  as  much  with  you,  as  with  your  brutal  lover!  " 

She  gave  a  half-sobbing  cry. 

"Mr.  Everton!" 

"  I  say  I  have  imagined  it,"  he  continued,  with  a  kind  of 
pathetic  weariness ;  "  And  I  cannot  think  of  her,  in  her  inno- 
cent beauty  dead and  look  '  kindly '  upon  you,  living!  I 

am  sorry  to  be  hard, — but  I  cannot  help  myself.  Of  course, 
after  what  you  have  told  me,  I  find  that  I  must  set  the  chief 
blame  on  the  one  devil  of  mischief  that  makes  havoc  of  all 
men  and  women's  souls — the  Drink.  Well! — I  admit  this. 
But  now  that  I  have  seen  you, — now  that  I  know  you  have 

no  need  of  me  to  help  you,  advise  or  console, now  that 

you  show  me  that  you  have  chosen  ways  of  life  in  which  I 
can  have  no  sympathy  and  wish  to  claim  no  memory,  it  only 
remains  for  me  to  go  from  you  for  ever.  And,  Jacynth," 
here  he  looked  down  at  the  slim  white  hand  he  held,  on 
which  the  marriage  ring  gleamed,  surmounted  by  a  second 
circlet  of  purest  diamonds,  "  I  cannot  say  God  bless  you — 
for  I  do  not  think  He  can,  or  will;  but  I  do  say  God  save 
you!" 

The  tears  were  still  thick  in  her  eyes;  she  withdrew  her 
hand  slowly  from  his  clasp. 

"  Thank-you !  "  she  said,  and  a  smile  softened  the  mo- 
mentarily vexed  lines  of  her  mouth,  "  You  would  be  such  a 
splendid  man,  Mr.  Everton,  if  you  were  not  a  parson!  You 
make  so  much  of  your  religion  that  you  cramp  yourself  in  its 


HOLY    ORDERS  405 

fetters — like  a  strong,  handsome  bear  dancing  in  chains! 
Poor  bear !  "  The  dewdrops  on  her  lashes  melted  away  in  a 
swift  gleam  of  sunny  mirth  which  rippled  into  a  soft  laugh. 
"  But  you  will  never  alter !  You  will  always  be  the  same 
anxious-to-be-good  Church  of  England  man ! "  All  her 
gravity  vanished,  and  she  went  on  like  a  chattering  school- 
girl, "  Now  if  you  want  to  see  a  real  angel, — one  who 
actually  '  ascends  into  heaven '  before  your  very  eyes,  come 
with  me  in  my  car  to  Hurlingham  to-day.  I  promise  to  fly 
most  gracefully  away  from  you !  " 

He  turned  a  questioning  glance  upon  her. 

"  I  will  go  and  change  my  gown," — she  continued — "  And 
we'll  start  at  once — for  I'm  due  at  Hurlingham  at  half-past 
seven.  It  is  quite  a  quick  run,  and  the  car  can  take  you  back 
to  your  hotel  after  I  am  gone." 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  he  asked. 

"  Have  I  not  told  you  ?  To  Heaven !  '  Up  among  the 
clouds  so  high,  Like  a  diamond  in  the  sky ! ' ' 

Her  cheeks  flushed,  and  the  laughing  light  upon  her  face 
would  have  been  the  despair  of  a  Romney. 

"You  look  so  surprised!  "  she  said "  I  am  only  going 

up  for  a  couple  of  hours  in  Mr.  Ferrers's  wonderful  bal- 
loon '  Shooting  Star.'  It's  my  favorite  way  of  seeing  the 
world.  Such  a  world  as  it  looks  too  from  the  balloon! — 
so  small  a  plaything!  With  its  chequered  little  patterns  of 
fields  and  roads,  it  is  just  as  though  a  child  had  laid  out  a 
doll's  garden  on  a  tea-tray!  And  as  one  soars  higher  and 

higher," here,  in  real  or  feigned  enthusiasm,  she  clasped 

her  hands  and  looked  up  like  a  glorified  saint  approaching 
the  gate  of  paradise, — "  one  feels  far  above  all  the  stupid 
commonness  of  everyday  things! — loftier  than  mountains! — 
prouder  than  oceans! — supreme  and  great  and  powerful! — 
almost  good!  "  She  let  her  hands  fall  at  her  sides  again  and 
laughed.  "Yes,  dear  Parson  Everton!  Almost  good/" 

"  In  the  company  of  Mr.  Claude  Ferrers?"  he  queried, 
with  a  flash  of  scorn. 

A  light  blush  flew  over  her  face. 

"  Claude  Ferrers  is  a  poet!  "  she  answered,— then,  with  a 
sudden  theatrical  air,  she  added — "  To  him  the  clouds  speak 
and  the  stars  sing!  To  him  sin  is  wildly  delightful,  and 
corruption  ineffably  delicious !  He  is  of  the  new  '  cult ' — 


406  HOLY     ORDERS 

(and  the  most  fashionable!)  which  transfers  the  dullness  of 
virtue  into  the  fervor  of  vice !  Ah !  " — and  she  heaved  a 
profound  melodramatic  sigh ;  "  The  '  common  herd  ' — the 
People — cannot  understand  these  subtle  shades  of  fine  emo- 
tion! It  takes  culture,  wealth,  and  an  ultra-refinement  of 
training,  combined  with  exquisite  languors  of  idleness,  to 
comprehend  the  delicacies  of  'smart'  sensuality!"  She 
broke  into  a  peal  of  laughter  and  clapped  her  hands.  "  Didn't 
I  do  that  well !  "  she  exclaimed — "  I  might  have  been  on 
the  boards!  That's  a  bit  of  Claude  Ferrers.  He  talks  in 
that  kind  of  way  when  he's  been  drinking  several  whisky- 
sodas,  or  several  brandies  and  champagnes  mixed.  But  he's 
really  quite  a  clever  man.  He  designed  his  own  balloon, 
:and  it  is  such  a  wonderful  patent  that  people  say  he'll  make 
thousands  of  pounds  with  it.  He  can  steer  in  any  direc- 
tion, even  in  a  gale  of  wind.  You  will  come  and  see  me 
ascend,  won't  you  ?  " 

He  hesitated.  A  strong  instinct  urged  him  to  go  with  her, 
and  yet  an  equally  strong  disinclination  to  be  seen  in  her 
company  held  him  back. 

"  I  would  rather  not," — he  began 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  It  won't  take  much  more  of  your  time ; 
besides,  you've  made  it  perfectly  clear  that  you  never  wish  to 
see  me  again  after  to-day,  so  you  may  as  well  be  amiable  and 
finish  the  afternoon  pleasantly !  "  She  smiled  and  added — 
"  It  will  be  something  for  you  to  think  about  and  remember 
when  you  get  back  to  stupid  little  Shadbrook.  Wait  here 
for  me, — I  won't  be  long." 

She  left  the  room  before  he  could  speak  another  word ; — 
and  he  paced  up  and  down  wretchedly,  angry  with  himself 
that  he  could  do  nothing  with  her, — neither  reproach,  nor 
condemn,  nor  persuade,  nor  intimidate.  He  asked  himself 
bitterly  of  what  use  was  the  influence  of  the  Church  or  the 
teaching  of  the  Gospel  to  a  woman  such  as  she  was,  endowed 
with  extraordinary  beauty,  and  now  by  fortune's  hazard, 
possessed  of  sufficient  wealth  to  move  in  whatever  social 
sphere  of  influence  she  chose.  For  it  is  only  necessary  to 
read  the  list  of  guests  who  are  received  by  King,  Queen,  and 
nobility  nowadays  to  realize  that  it  is  certainly  not  dis- 
tinctive merit  or  fine  character  which  effect  an  entrance  into 
the  circles  once  renowned  for  an  honorable  exclusiveness,  but 


HOLY    ORDERS  407 

simply  Cash.  The  man  who  pays  liberally  in  one  way  01 
the  other  for  a  peerage  obtains  it, — the  natural  result  being 
that  lords  are  nowadays  made  up  of  commons.  Very  soon 
the  prestige  of  a  name  will  rest  upon  its  remaining  that  of 
a  simple  squire  or  dame,  untainted  by  political  intrigues  or 
party  bribery.  According  to  modern  methods  of  '  honors ' 
conferred,  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  Jacynth's  husband 
from  becoming  a  peer  of  the  realm  if  he  decided  to  play  the 
game  and  give  a  couple  of  hundred  thousand  pounds  to  a 
hospital,  or  for  educational  purposes, — and  nothing  to  hinder 
Jacynth  herself,  though  formerly  a  day-laborer's  light-o'-love, 
from  wearing  a  coronet  with  the  proudest  ladies  in  the  land. 
No  one  in  London  knew  her  early  history,  and  even  if  it  ever 
came  to  be  known,  it  was  certain  that,  in  the  general  omnium 
gatherum  of  anybodies  and  everybodies,  clean  and  unclean, 
moral  and  immoral,  who  now  compose  '  Court  and  Society ' 
in  Great  Britain,  no  one  would  care.  She  was  absolutely 
without  a  conscience, — if  she  had  ever  possessed  the  germ 
of  one  it  had  been  withered  in  her  orgies  of  drink  with  Dan 
Kiernan.  Her  woman's  nature  had  been  warped,  and  the 
faculties  of  her  brain  perverted  by  the  foul  and  degrading 
habit  which  works  disaster  on  so  many  thousands  of  human 
lives, — and  though  chance  had  now  placed  her  in  such  a 
position  that  she  might  probably,  for  pure  vanity's  sake,  if 
for  no  other  cause,  resist  temptation  for  a  time,  there  was  no 
certainty  that  the  mischief  generated  in  her  blood  by  the 
horrible  experience  of  her  youth,  might  not  break  out  in 
future  years  all  the  more  violently  for  its  present  repression. 
Drink  was  the  beginning  of  her  career;  Drink  would  surely 
be  the  end! 

And  while  his  thoughts  thus  dwelt  upon  her  with  a 
strange  sorrow,  not  altogether  unmixed  with  a  poignant  and 
personal  bitterness  to  which  he  could  not  give  a  name,  she 
re-entered  the  room,  clad  in  a  dainty  out-of-door  costume  of 
ivory-colored  cloth,  with  a  coquettishly  contrived  hood  of 
the  same  hue,  which  she  wore  closely  drawn  over  her  luxu- 
riant hair,  and  tied  with  a  knot  of  velvet  ribbon  under  the 
chin.  She  looked  like  the  nymph-embodiment  of  a  white 
rose, — the  dull  cream  of  her  dress  enhancing  the  delicate  tint 
of  her  skin  and  the  dark  luster  of  her  wonderful  eyes.  And 
Everton,  looking  at  her,  was  suddenly  reminded,  though  he 


4o8  HOLY     ORDERS 

knew   not  why,    of  a  verse   in   the  Apocryphal   '  Book   of 
Enoch  ' 

'  This  spirit  of  light  was  given  unto  thee,  a  virgin  clothed 
with  the  heavens;  take  heed,  I  charge  thee,  that  thou  keep 
her  pure,  that  thou  preserve  her  from  all  stain.  Let  her  be 
free  from  worldliness  and  sin,  as  the  snow  upon  the  moun- 
tain-top. Let  her  venerate  the  Lord  God  and  walk  in  His 
holy  laws.' 

And  his  heart  ached  heavily,  for  he  could  not  forget  that 
she  had  been  one  of  his  '  little  flock ' — and  that  upon  him, 
perchance,  as  much  as  any  one  had  fallen  the  charge  to  '  keep 
her  pure ' — to  '  preserve  her  from  all  stain.'  He  had  been 
deceived  in  her ;  but  was  it  not  his  fault  ?  Should  he  not,  as 
her  Vicar,  when  he  first  went  to  Shadbrook,  have  tried  to 
know  her  better?  Could  he  not  have  gained  her  confidence 
and  by  sympathy  and  help  prevented  her  ruin?  And  the 
cry  of  Bob  Hadley  rang  again  in  his  ears — "  Save  Jacynth! 

She's  lost — lost!    Try  if  you  can  do  anything save  her 

from  herself! — from  the  shame — " 

Had  he  obeyed  this  last  request  of  the  dead?  Had  he 
'  tried '  to  save  her  ?  Had  he  not  rather  been  like  so  many 
country  parsons,  content  to  wait  the  course  of  events  and 
listen  to  what  other  people  said  before  going  steadily  to  work 
to  form  his  own  opinion?  Surely  he  might  have  done  some 
good  before  all  good  for  her  was  past  his  power!  A  wave 
of  self-tormenting  memory  swept  over  him,  while  she,  all 
unconscious  of  his  feeling,  only  saw  that  he  seemed  to  be 
looking  at  her  very  intently,  and  in  her  own  mind  she  decided 
that  he  must  be  admiring  the  becoming  effect  of  her  cream- 
colored  hood. 

"  I'm  quite  ready," — she  said,  smiling  radiantly ;  "  And 
the  car  is  at  the  door.  Come  along,  Mr.  Everton!  We'll 
get  to  Hurlingham  in  less  than  half  an  hour.  You've  no 
train  to  catch,  have  you?  You're  not  going  back  to  Shad- 
brook  to-night?  " 

"  No.     Not  till  to-morrow  morning,"  he  replied. 

"  You  stayed  in  town  a  day  longer  to  please  me,  didn't 
you?  "  she  asked,  with  a  sparkling  glance  at  him. 

"  I  stayed,  because  you  wished  it,  certainly," — he  said ; 
then  on  a  sudden  impulse  he  added — "  I  thought  I  might 
perhaps  be  of  some  service  to  you " 


HOLY    ORDERS  409 

"  In  reading  the  Prayers  for  the  Sick,  or  the  Prayers  for 
Dying?  "  she  queried,  lightly. 

His  brows  darkened. 

"  You  jest  with  me,  of  course,"  he  said ;  "  Nothing  is  of 
serious  import  to  you  any  more.  Life  has  become  to  you  a 
mere  comedy  in  which  for  the  moment  you  play  a  leading 
part.  I  understand  your  humor " 

"  It  is  quite  a  good  humor!  "  she  smilingly  assured  him. 

"  You  may  think  so ;  it  is  the  natural  outcome  of  your 
'  social '  position  and  surroundings," — he  answered  her,  with 
a  tinge  of  scorn, — "  The  men  and  women  with  whom  you 
associate  are  modern  degenerates  who  have  no  belief  in  God 
or  a  future  state — you  imbibe  their  theories  and  think  them 
clever — even  intellectual, — though  there  is  no  more  intellect 
in  atheism  than  there  is  in  the  spectacle  of  an  ape  chattering 
at  the  sun.  I  cannot  change  your  views ;  it  would  be  useless 
for  me  to  try — now.  But  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  one 
thing- " 

She  drew  nearer  to  him. 

"What  is  that?"  she  asked,  with  such  sudden  gentleness 
that  he  was  vaguely  moved  and  startled. 

"  Just  this," — and  the  deep,  tender  voice  trembled — "  In 
the  old  days, — when  I  first  went  to  Shadbrook, — when  I 
knew  you  as  a  young  girl, — a  child  almost — could  I  have 
helped  and  guided  you  at  any  time  when  I  did  not  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  soft  eyes  that  held  an  infinity  of 
dreams. 

"Could  you  have  helped  and  guided  me?"  she  echoed; 
"  I  think  not !  Unless," — arid  her  lips  parted  in  a  slow, 
enchanting  smile — "  Unless  you  had  come  to  Shadbrook 
unmarried, — unless  it  had  chanced  that  you  had  been  one 
of  those  much-sought-after  male  creatures,  a  bachelor  par- 
son!— then  I  would  have  made  you  fall  in  love  with  me! 
I  am  sure,"  and  she  paused,  watching  the  flush  on  his  face 
die  away  into  pallor — "it  would  have  been  easy!"  She 
paused  again, — and  he  stood  before  her  mute  and  rigid. 
"  Then  perhaps," — and  she  laughed,  "  You  might  have 
married  me,  and  like  the  children's  stories  say,  we  should 
have  been  '  happy  ever  afterwards.'  And  I  should  have 
been  good  and  respectable,  and dull!  Oh,  very  dull! 


4io  HOLY     ORDERS 

'  guided '  me !  Be  quite  easy  on  that  score !  You  could 
never  have  made  me  believe  anything  I  didn't  want  to  be- 
lieve. I  was  always  a  '  bad  lot ' !  But  there  are  many 
others  equally  bad, — quite  '  distinguished  '  ladies  too !  Don't 
look  so  dreadfully  serious!  Come  to  Hurlingham — we'll 
say  good-by  there! 

For  a  moment  he  stood  irresolute;  then,  as  she  went  to- 
wards the  door  and  beckoned  him  out  of  the  room,  he  fol- 
lowed. A  certain  curiosity  impelled  him  to  accompany  her, 
— and  also  an  odd  but  distinct  reluctance  to  bid  her  farewell. 

Her  car,  as  she  had  said,  was  in  waiting, a  luxurious 

vehicle  upholstered  in  dark  blue  with  gold  and  ivory  fittings, 
guided  by  a  French  chauffeur  in  livery.  She  sprang  lightly 
in,  her  butler  or  major-domo  standing  on  guard  while  one 
of  the  two  attendant  flunkeys  obsequiously  handed  her  a 
cloak  of  superb  sables. 

"  I  shall  not  be  home  to  dinner,"  she  said  to  these,  her 
menials, — "  Tell  your  master  I  have  gone  ballooning  with 
Mr.  Ferrers." 

The  butler  received  the  statement  with  a  well-trained  bow. 
What  the  respectable  man  thought  of  her  '  ballooning  with 
Mr.  Ferrers '  did  not  appear  on  his  carefully  composed 
countenance. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Everton ! "  she  called,  a  trifle  imperiously. 

Everton  obeyed  the  summons,  and  entering  the  car,  took 
his  seat  beside  her.  In  another  moment  they  were  gliding 
swiftly  out  of  Portman  Square  and  threading  their  way 
through  the  crowded  streets  of  the  metropolis,  amid  the  roar 
and  crush  of  traffic  more  dangerous  to  life  and  limb  than 
any  other  known  means  of  hazardous  wayfaring. 

"This  is  not  the  car  that  ran  over  Dan  Kiernan," — she 
then  observed,  with  the  simple  air  of  making  quite  an  ordi- 
nary remark — "  But  it  is  the  same  chauffeur." 

Everton  shuddered. 

"  Was  it  necessary  to  tell  me  that?  "  he  asked. 

She  laughed. 

"Have  I  given  you  a  thrill?  So  sorry!  I  am  always 
forgetting  that  you  live  out  of  the  world  and  don't  '  go  * 
with  the  time.  But,  really,  the  motor-cars  run  over  and 
kill  so  many  people  that  one  ceases  to  think  about  it.  It's 
part  of  the  fun.  And  most  of  the  lives  are  of  no  value." 


HOLY    ORDERS  411 

"  Except  to  their  families  and  friends ! "  said  Everton, 
with  indignant  emphasis. 

She  laughed  again. 

"Families?  Friends?  Oh  dear!  Families  seem  to  exist 
merely  to  quarrel  among  themselves ;  see  how  they'll  wrangle 
over  a  Will!  And  as  for  friends! — surely  you  know  what 
they  are? — pleasant  to  your  face — slanderous  behind  your 
back!" 

"  Those  are  not  friends," — he  answered ;  "  They  are  mere 
time-servers  and  hypocrites." 

"  Of  course!  But  they  are  the  only  sort  of  '  friends '  one 
gets  nowadays.  People  are  only  kind  to  you  when  they 
fancy  you  can  be  useful  to  them;  when  once  they  are  sure 
you  can't  or  won't  be  useful,  they  '  drop  '  you.  That's  quite 
understood." 

"  Then  you  do  not  believe  even  in  friendship,  Jacynth ! " 
he  said. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  indeed!  I'm  not  so  silly!  I've  told  you  my  creed — • 
it  is — To  Enjoy!  Never  mind  how  the  enjoyment  is  got  or 
where  it  comes  in — Enjoy!  I  am  enjoying  myself  now! " 

"  In  any  special  way?  "  he  asked,  coldly. 

"  Oh,  yes in  a  very  special  way !  "  she  answered, 

smiling,  "  I'm  enjoying  the  company  of  the  dear  kind  parson 
who  wanted  to  make  me  a  good  girl!  I  am,  indeed!  It  is 
a  pleasure  to  me  to  have  you  beside  me.  I'm  not  a  good  girl, 

you  know, I'm  a  bad  one,  according  to  your  view  of 

life,  and  I've  told  you  all  about  myself yet  here  you 

are!" 

He  was  silent.    She  gave  him  a  covert  glance. 

"  Don't  worry,  Mr.  Everton!  A  parson  may  be  seen  any- 
where, and  with  any  one.  That's  why  so  many  of  your  call- 
ing turn  up  at  the  music-halls  and  hang  around  the  stage- 
doors  !  It's  all  for  the  Christian  saving  of  souls !  " 

A  profound  disgust  filled  him  as  he  heard  her.  Yet,  to 
defend  any  position  taken  up  by  a  woman  of  her  type  was 
mere  waste  of  breath.  Even  to  show  offense  at  her  manner 
of  attacking  the  Christian  ministry  was  to  pay  her  too  much 
honor.  He,  therefore,  kept  silence.  His  calm  demeanor 
evidently  irritated  her, — his  composed  face,  with  just  the 
faintest  touch  of  wondering  pity  and  contempt  expressed 


4i2  HOLY     ORDERS 

upon  it,  conveyed  a  hint  to  her  mind,  full  of  egotism  as  she 
was,  that  her  raillery  did  not  seem  to  him  clever,  as  she 
thought  it,  but  merely  vulgar.  She  looked  at  him  once  or 
twice  half  angrily  and  hummed  a  little  tune  under  her 
breath. 

"  I  suppose  when  you  go  back  to  Shadbrook  to-morrow," 
she  said,  presently "  You  will  stay  there  all  your  life !  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  answered,  quietly. 

"  Will  you  tell  them  you  have  seen  me  ?  " 

"  Tell  them  ?  You  mean  the  villagers  ?  No ;  I  shall  not 
mention  your  name." 

"Why  not?  I  should  like  them  to  know  how  much 
better  off  I  am  than  they  are !  " 

"  No  doubt  you  would !  " — he  said — "  You  would  like 
them  to  know  that  the  wages  of  sin  is  not  death  in  your  case, 
but  life, — such  life  as  you  live — which  is  not  life  at  all.  You 
would  like  them  to  envy  your  clothes,  your  jewels,  your 
possessions;  you  would  like  to  sow  the  seeds  of  restlessness, 
evil  desire  and  discontent  in  the  hearts  of  the  girls  who  knew 
you,  and  who,  as  yet,  are  innocent  of  your  wrong-doing, — 
you  would  like  this, — it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  you!  But 
if  such  mischief  is  to  be  worked  I  shall  have  no  hand  in  it. 
I  shall  let  the  village  think  as  it  thinks  now,  that  you  are 
among  those  whom  it  is  best  and  kindest  to  forget." 

Her  cheeks  crimsoned;  her  eyes  flashed. 

"  Thank  you !  "  she  smiled — "  It  is  so  easy  to  forget  me, 
isn't  it?" 

He  made  no  reply.  Her  beauty  was  almost  aggressive  in 
its  brilliancy  as  she  turned  her  face  towards  him.  The  after- 
noon sunlight  set  warm  ripples  of  living  gold  in  her  rich 
brown  hair,  and  she  looked  so  lovely,  that  even  as  the  car 
raced  along,  being  now  out  of  the  more  crowded  thorough- 
fares, men  turned  and  stared,  amazed  by  the  vision  that  flew 
past  them.  If  ever  the  goddess  of  a  poet's  dream  could  be 
supposed  to  take  mortal  shape,  then  Jacynth  represented  in 
herself  the  external  embodiment  of  all  the  love-lyrics  of  the 
world.  Yet  inwardly  she  was  corrupt  and  cruel;  a  very 
devil  in  woman's  fairest  shape;  and  Richard  Everton,  fight- 
ing strenuously  between  the  strong  attraction  of  her  physical 
charm  and  his  own  spiritual  knowledge  of  her  innate  wick- 
edness, found  the  stress  of  the  battle  gradually  diminishing, 


HOLY    ORDERS  413 

and  the  storm  clearing  to  calm.  Temptation  had  assailed 
him;  but  his  strength  had  lain  in  the  consciousness  that  he 
was  not  above  temptation.  And  the  victory  was  now  being 
given  into  his  hands. 

They  reached  Hurlingham  ten  minutes  before  the  ap- 
pointed hour,  and  on  descending  from  her  motor-carriage, 
Jacynth  led  the  way  to  an  open  part  of  the  grounds  where 
several  groups  of  gayly-dressed  people  were  standing  and 
sitting  about  or  sauntering  round  a  broad  expanse  of  green- 
sward in  the  center  of  which  a  huge  balloon,  nearly  filled 
with  gas,  was  swaying  uneasily  to  and  fro  as  though  strug- 
gling to  release  itself  and  tear  asunder  its  cords  from  the 
sand-bags  that  held  it  to  the  ground.  The  afternoon  was 
one  of  clear  light  and  warm  air, — the  London  '  season,' 

though  wearing  on  apace,  had  not  yet  closed and  the 

women  who  were  gathered  together  to  watch  the  ascent  of 
the  aerial  monster  of  the  sky  were  all  elegantly,  not  to  say 
extravagantly  attired  in  dainty  muslin  and  chiffon  toilettes, 
with  hats  perched  on  their  marvelous  artificial  coiffures  like 
miniature  flower-gardens,  and  parasols  of  painted  silk  de- 
signed to  match  their  gowns.  Some  pretty  faces  and  figures 
were  among  them, — but  all  paled  into  humblest  insignificance 
when  Jacynth-,  in  her  plainly  cut  white  cloth  frock,  with  her 
radiant  face  smiling  out  of  its  coquettish  hood,  appeared  on 
the  scene.  Then  every  man  left  every  other  woman  to 
crowd  around  the  fair  heroine  of  the  hour, — and  the  women, 
in  consequence  of  being  so  '  left,'  looked  coldly  critical  or 
spitefully  derisive,  indulging  in  light  raillery  among  them- 
selves as  to  the  identity  and  personality  of  Mrs.  Nordstein's 
companion — "Another  clerical  capture,  my  dear!  Just 
fancy!  I  thought  Cardinal  Lyall  was  the  latest  victim! 
How  many  gentlemen  of  all  the  Churches  does  she  intend 
to  fool !  "  Jacynth  herself,  conscious  of  the  sensation  she 
made,  yet  assuming  a  perfectly  graceful  r/n-consciousness  of 
it,  moved  among  her  acquaintances  with  an  easy  pleasantness, 
shaking  hands  with  this  person,  bowing  to  that,  but  intro- 
ducing Everton  to  nobody  till  the  massive  figure  of  Claude 
Ferrers  raised  itself  from  somewhere  among  the  ropes  and 
cords  of  the  balloon  and  advanced  to  meet  her.  The  '  poet ' 
and  aeronaut  looked  very  pale,  and  the  expression  of  his 
glassy  blue  eyes  was  a  staring  enigma. 


4H  HOLY    ORDERS 

"  Ah,  most  beautiful  lady !  "  he  exclaimed — "  At  last !  I 
was  beginning  to  fear  you  would  fail  me !  " 

"  Have  I  ever  done  so?  "  she  asked,  with  a  charming  up- 
ward glance, — then  she  added — "  I've  been  talking  all  the 
afternoon  to  an  old  friend  who  knew  me  when  I  was  a 

little  girl!  Let  me  introduce  you  to  each  other Mr. 

Richard  Everton:  Mr.  Claude  Ferrers." 

The  two  men  acknowledged  each  other  by  the  very  slight- 
est salutation.  Ferrers  looked  with  a  cynical  air  at  Ever- 
ton's  tall  slim  figure  arrayed  in  its  clerical  suit — then  he 
said  in  a  slow  drawling  voice: 

"  I  see  you  are  of  the  other-world  persuasion,  Mr.  Ever- 
ton! You  teach  us  how  to  go  to  heaven  after  death, — but 
I  and  my  '  Shooting  Star '  "  (and  he  pointed  to  the  balloon) 
"  will  take  you  there  during  life!  What  do  you  say?  Will 
you  come  ?  " 

Eyerton's  clear  blue  eyes  rested  upon  him  fixedly,  express- 
ing in  their  grave  scrutiny  a  complete  comprehension  of  his 
temperament  and  character. 

"  Your  heaven  and  mine  are  possibly  dissimilar,"  he  an- 
swered, with  constrained  civility — "  We  should  probably 
have  to  journey  in  different  directions." 

Ferrers  laughed  softly,  and  stroked  his  clean-shaven  flabby 
chin  with  one  fat  white  hand  on  which  a  large  diamond 
sparkled. 

"  Very  much  so !  "  he  agreed,  nodding  condescendingly — 
"  You  will  keep  to  the  narrow  line  of  dogma, — I  to  the 
broad  high-road  of  science.  We  should  never  meet !  "  And 
he  turned  with  a  smile  to  Jacynth — "  Magic  Crystal,  are 
you  ready?  " 

"  Quite!  "  she  answered,  whereupon  he  made  a  sign  to  the 
men  who  were  busy  filling  the  balloon  with  gas,  to  hasten 
the  completion  of  their  work.  The  scattered  people  in  the 
grounds  of  Hurlingham  now  began  to  collect  in  groups, 
which  speedily  extended  till  there  was  a  considerably  large 
crowd  watching,  like  curious  children,  the  turning  off  of  the 
gas  and  the  removal  of  the  India-rubber  pipe  which  had  sup- 
plied the  balloon  with  its  soaring  power.  Preparations  were 
now  made  to  fix  the  wicker  car  to  the  bottom  of  the  balloon 

• and  while  this  business  was  going  on,  several  persons 

entered  into  conversation  with  both  Ferrers  and  Jacynth, 


HOLY    ORDERS  415 

and  Everton  was  left  for  a  moment  alone  and  apart.  A 
vague  sense  of  pain  and  foreboding  crept  over  him  as  he 
looked  round  upon  the  brilliant  scene;  he  wondered  how  it 
was  that  no  one  present  appeared  to  entertain  the  slightest 
anxiety  as  to  the  safety  of  the  voyagers  who  were  about  to 
sail  the  seas  of  space.  It  seemed  to  be  taken  for  granted  that 
to  go  up  in  a  balloon  was  as  simple  and  ordinary  as  to  drive 
in  a  carnage.  And  while  he  was  yet  considering  the  various 
probabilities  of  risk  in  the  undertaking,  Jacynth  came  up  to 
him  with  outstretched  hand  and  said: 

MGood-by!" 

"  Are  you  going  now  ?  "  he  said. 

"At  once." 

"  Do  you  know  where  you  are  going?  " 

She  laughed. 

"Ah,  that  is  never  quite  certain!  It  depends  on  Mr. 
Ferrers." 

"  Are  you  alone  with  him?  Does  no  one  else  accompany 
you?" 

She  opene'd  her  large  eyes  in  smiling  wonder. 

"  Certainly  not!  Why  should  any  one  go  with  us?  We 
have  traveled  in  the  sky  together  scores  of  times !  " 

"  And  you  have  no  fear?  " 

"None!" 

His  face  expressed  a  certain  anxiety,  and  she  saw  it. 

"  Why,  you  surely  don't  mind  what  becomes  of  me,  do 
you?"  she  said,  lightly — "This  is  our  long  good-by,  you 
must  remember!  You  wish  it  to  be  so." 

"  Yes,  I  wish  it  to  be  so," — he  repeated,  almost  mechan- 
ically. 

"  You  wish  me  to  do  nothing  more  at  any  time  to  make 
the  world  listen  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing  more !     Never,  never  at  any  time !  " 

"  Well,  if  I  never  speak  to  you  again  or  attempt  to  help 
you  in  any  way,  will  you  try  and  think  more  kindly  of  me 
some  day?  " 

A  thrill  of  compassion  and  regret  moved  him — he  gently 
pressed  her  hand. 

"  I  will,  Jacynth !    I  will  do  my  best." 

"  That's  right !  "  and  all  suddenly  she  moved  up  closely 
to  him  and  spoke  in  swift  low  accents — "  Parson  Everton, 


416  HOLY     ORDERS 

it  is  only  your  God  that  stands  between  us ! — the  God  of  the 
Churches — not  the  God  of  Nature !  It  is  your  religion  that 
makes  you  narrow  and  miserable! — a  religion  that  was  not 
strong  enough  to  save  Dan  or  me !  Think  of  that !  Think 
that  we  both  heard  you  preach  of  Christ  every  Sunday,  and 
that  neither  of  us  was  a  bit  the  better  for  it!  Think  of 
that,  I  say,  when  I  am  gone!  For  it  wants  thinking  about!  " 

And  with  this  she  turned  and  obeyed  the  beckoning  hand 
of  Claude  Ferrers,  who  had  been  for  the  past  few  minutes 
supervising  the  final  preparations  for  the  ascent  of  his 
'  Shooting  Star.'  Everything  was  now  ready, — and  Jacynth, 
amid  some  cheering  and  handclapping  from  the  concourse 
of  spectators  who  had  gathered  round  the  balloon  in  a  circle, 
entered  the  wicker  car  and  waved  her  hand  smilingly  to  her 
various  acquaintances.  Ferrers  took  his  place  beside  her, 
and  gave  the  signal  to  let  go.  The  cords  were  loosened,  and 
the  balloon  rose,  floating  over  the  surface  of  the  ground  in 
a  light  wind.  Once  more  Jacynth  waved  her  hand 

"  Parson  Everton,  good-by !  " 

He  pressed  to  the  edge  of  the  crowd,  watching  her  fair 
face  as  it  was  borne  upward  into  the  translucent  light  and 
air  of  which  it  seemed  a  part. 

"Good-by!"  he  called. 

And  like  a  silver  note  of  music  played  afar  off  and  drop- 
ping liquidly  through  space,  came  the  farewell  echo  of  her 
voice  once  more 

"Good-by!" 

Up — up — still  up,  and  ever  higher  the  '  Shooting  Star ' 
soared ;  and  every  eye  in  the  crowd  was  strained  to  follow  its 
progress  till  it  looked  no  bigger  than  a  child's  kite  straying 
in  the  sky.  Then  it  began  to  travel  swiftly  towards  the 
southwest,  with  almost  as  much  steadiness  as  a  vessel  travers- 
ing the  ocean,  and  within  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had 
entirely  disappeared.  The  spectators  began  to  disperse;  the 
men  and  women  laughing  and  chatting  and  laying  bets  on 
the  distance  the  balloon  would  travel,  and  on  the  probable 
point  of  its  descent,  while  Everton,  with  a  sense  of  unreality 
upon  him  as  though  he  had  been,  and  were  still  moving  in 
a  wild  dream,  made  his  way  to  the  spot  where  Jacynth's 
motor-car,  by  her  orders,  waited  to  take  him  back  to  his 
hotel.  As  he  walked  slowly  along  his  attention  was  sud- 


HOLY    ORDERS  417 

denly  riveted  by  some  words  spoken  among  a  group  of  per- 
sons who  were  leaving  Hurlingham  by  the  same  exit  as 
himself. 

"  Yes,  Ferrers  was  drunk," — said  one  man ;  "  Not  a  doubt 
of  it!  But  the  air  will  sober  him." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that!  " — said  another;  "  If  he  throws 
out  too  much  ballast  by  mistake " 

There  was  a  laugh. 

"  Then  it  will  be  all  U.  P.,"  said  the  first  man "  And 

no  great  loss." 

"  But  the  lovely  Mrs.  Nordstein " 

"Oh,  she'll  take  care  of  herself,  you  bet!  She'll  bring 
him  down  to  earth  with  a  bang !  " 

Everton  could  no  longer  restrain  himself. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon," — he  said,  courteously,  addressing 
one  of  the  party ;  "  But  did  I  hear  you  say  that  Mr.  Ferrers, 
the  owner  of  the  balloon  that  has  just  gone  up,  was 

"  Not  quite  as  he  should  be  ?  "  finished  the  man  spoken 
to,  with  a  good-humored  smile.  "  Yes.  I  said  he  was 
drunk,  and  he  is.  But  Mr.  Ferrers  lives  in  that  condition 
for  the  most  part ;  so  it  is  nothing  unusual." 

"  But "  and  Everton  looked  troubled — "  he  seemed 

perfectly  sober " 

"  Oh,  he  always  seems!  That's  the  worst  part  of  it.  He 
stands  straight,  looks  straight  and  talks  straight;  but  he's 
drunk, — and  his  talk  is  most  clever  when  he's  most  drunk." 

"  Then  the  lady  with  him, — should  she  not  have  been 
told ?" 

"  I  presume  the  lady  with  him  knew  all  about  it,"  was 
the  careless  reply ;  "  She  ought  to  if  she  doesn't !  " 

He  laughed  again,  and  Everton  drew  back. 

"  There's  no  danger,  I  suppose  ?  "  he  said,  as  a  last  word. 

"  Oh,  not  the  least  in  the  world !  If  there  were,  no  one 
could  help  it !  " 

The  group  passed  on.  He  felt  he  could  ask  no  more  ques- 
tions; and  entering  with  reluctance  Jacynth's  luxurious 
motor-car,  he  was  driven  at  something  of  a  rush  back  to  his 
hotel,  with  the  sickening  consciousness  upon  him  all  the  time 
that  the  chauffeur  who  raced  the  car  along  at  such  a  rate 
was  the  very  man  who  had  swept  the  life  out  of  Dan  Kier- 


4i8  HOLY     ORDERS 

nan.  Surely  fate  had  an  unkind  way  of  entangling  him  in 
unforeseen  meshes,  and  of  bringing  him  into  contact  with  all 
that  he  most  sought  to  avoid !  And  he  who  had  at  one  time 
been  disposed  to  regret  the  limitation  of  his  ministering 
efforts  to  one  small  field  of  work — he  of  whom  a  whispering 
demon  of  discontent  had  so  often  asked : — "  Are  you  going 
to  pass  all  your  life  in  Shadbrook  ?  "  now  longed  for  Shad- 
brook  as  ardently  as  though  the  dull  little  Cotswold  village 
were  a  paradise  on  earth.  He  longed  for  the  quiet  of  it, — 
for  the  murmur  of  the  trees,  the  scent  of  the  flowers;  he  had 
only  been  absent  from  it  a  bare  three  days,  and  those  three 
days  seemed  a  century!  A  century  of  strange  impressions, 
and  bitter  memories,  and  drifting  visions,  the  last  and  most 
vivid  of  all  these  being  the  exquisite  face  of  Jacynth,  floating 
wondrously  away  into  the  rose  and  amber  glory  of  the  sun- 
set with  a  softly  called  '  Good-by  1 ' 


CHAPTER    XXII 

NEXT  day  when  he  woke  from  sleep,  he  felt  as  though  he 
had  been  through  a  sharp  attack  of  fever,  in  which 
every  nerve  had  been  stretched  on  a  rack  and  tortured  to  the 
last  point  of  endurance,  but  that  now,  thanks  to  some  un- 
known spirit  of  healing,  the  suffering  was  past,  and  health 
was  rapidly  returning.  A  great  peace  was  upon  him ;  a  sense 
of  relaxation  and  ease;  and  as  he  reviewed  the  experience  of 
the  past  three  days  point  by  point,  he  saw  that  his  visit  to 
London  had  been  a  matter  of  the  Higher  Guidance  rather 
than  his  own  choice  and  volition.  For  not  only  had  he  come, 
ostensibly  to  plead  for  a  charitable  public  cause,  but  he  had 
been  brought  to  discover  the  undesirable  means  whereby  his 
temporary  '  celebrity,'  such  as  it  was,  had  been  gained ;  and 
he  had  been  able  to  put  a  stop  to  this  fictitious  '  boom,'  as 
also  to  Jacynth's  intended  patronage  of  him,  which  to  his 
mind  would  have  been  an  intolerable  indignity.  That  she, 
for  whose  sake  and  memory  his  innocent  wife  had  been  bru- 
tally murdered,  should  now  presume  to  boast  of  her  '  influ- 
ence '  in  making  him  known  to  the  world,  was  a  thought  too 
horrible  to  be  borne.  Better  a  thousand  times  the  obscurity 
of  Shadbrook  for  all  the  days  of  his  life  than  such  fame, 
owed  to  such  a  woman!  And  the  impression  of  her  bril- 
liant beauty  began  to  grow  dim  and  to  fade  from  his  inward 
view,  even  as  her  face  had  faded  away  into  the  air  and  light 
with  the  balloon  which  had  carried  her  aloft  among  the 
illimitable  reaches  of  the  sky, — a  mode  of  leave-taking  which 
he  felt  sure  she  had  designed  purposely  for  '  sensational ' 
effect.  Her  keen  desire  that  he  should  go  with  her  to  wit- 
ness her  ascent  from  Hurlingham  was  simply  to  gratify  her 
vanity ;  that  he  might  see  her  among  her  '  society '  lovers 
and  friends,  and  perhaps  be  led  to  report  her  triumphs  among 
her  former  neighbors  when  he  returned  to  Shadbrook — or 
that  he  might,  at  any  rate,  note  how  much  she  was  admired, 
and  in  turn  admire,  and  compliment  her  on  the  nerve  and 
daring  she  displayed  in  committing  herself  to  a  voyage  in 

419 


420  HOLY     ORDERS 

mid-air  with  but  one  companion,  and  that  companion  a 
drunkard!  For  it  was  not  likely  she  could  be  ignorant  of 
the  vices  of  Claude  Ferrers.  She  had  said  he  was  her  '  great 
friend  ' ;  possibly  a  sort  of  '  gentleman  '  Dan  Kiernan !  With 
a  thrill  of  disgust  Everton  for  a  moment  wondered  at  what 
hour  the  reckless  and  strangely  assorted  pair  had  returned, 
or  would  return  from  their  aerial  wanderings;  then  he  reso- 
lutely dismissed  the  incident  from  his  mind  and  turned  his 
thoughts  to  other  things, — things  grave  and  sorrowful 
affecting  the  safety  and  stability  of  the  Church, — things 
scandalous  and  terrible  touching  the  honor  of  one  at  least 

of  the  Church's  high  dignitaries, and,  acting  on  a  sudden 

impulse,  he  wrote  a  letter  expressing  something  of  his  feeling 
to  the  Bishop  with  whom  he  had  lunched  on  the  previous 
day.  And  the  letter  was  as  follows: 

"  MY  LORD, — 

"  If  but  half  your  hint  of  yesterday  respecting  the  Bishop 

of  conveyed  any  truth,  then  surely  it  would  be  more 

honest  of  the  clergy,  as  servants  of  Christ,  to  search  out  and 
verify  the  facts;  and,  when  verified,  to  submit  them  in  pri- 
vate to  the  Primate  of  England,  urging  him  to  depose  from 
office  one  who  is  criminally  unfit  to  officiate  at  the  altars  of 
God.  To  shield  and  defend  such  an  one,  and  above  all,  to 
permit  him  to  rule  over  and  instruct  others  in  their  sacred 
duties,  is  a  disgrace  to  the  election  and  ordainment  of  all 
ministers  of  the  Gospel.  And  though  you,  my  Lord,  hold 
no  jurisdiction  over  me,  and  probably  have  no  sympathy  with 
my  poor  efforts  to  be  faithful  in  the  work  I  have  undertaken 
to  perform,  I  still  venture  to  approach  you  with  a  most  sol- 
emn appeal  on  behalf  of  the  laity,  whose  religious  beliefs  are 
being  undermined  and  shaken  by  evil  influences  from  all 
quarters  of  the  world  in  these  '  last  days,'  that  it  shall  not 
be  made  possible  for  them  to  feel  that  a  known  criminal  has 
been  permitted  to  lay  hands  in  holy  Confirmation  on  the 
heads  of  the  innocent,  without  one  protest  from  the  Church 
he  defiles.  I  understand  from  you  that  both  Church  and 
Throne  dread  publicity  in  this  affair;  but  there  is  no  need 
for  a  wide  blazoning  of  the  offense.  The  offender  should, 
and  could  be  persuaded  to  resign  his  post  quietly, — and  to 
this  end,  I  hope  you,  my  Lord,  and  your  colleagues  will 


HOLY    ORDERS  421 

work ;  and  not  leave  it  for  me,  a  mere  country  cleric,  to  show 
a  greater  boldness  than  should  be  my  portion,  and  denounce 
not  only  the  criminal  in  question^  but  also  the  monstrous 
apathy  of  the  Church  that  shelters  his  crime.  This  letter 
is,  I  know,  unusual,  unconventional,  and  out  of  all  rule  and 
order,  wherefore  your  Lordship  may — from  the  rule  and 
order  point  of  view, — condemn  me  for  writing  it.  But  if 
Church  conventionality  can  be  used  to  cover  Church  corrup- 
tion, I  shall  not  regret  that  I  have  tried  to  break  through  the 
barrier  which  too  often  fences  in  a  Bishop  from  the  right- 
eous representations  of  such  honest  clergy  who,  aware  of 
scandals  in  the  Church,  are  given  no  chance  of  saving  the 
situation  because  of  the  restrictions  and  formalities  imposed 
upon  them  by  their  frequently  lax  and  indolent  superiors. — 
I  am,  my  Lord,  Your  Lordship's  obedient  servant, 

"  RICHARD  EVERTON." 


A  weight  was  lifted  from  his  soul  with  the  writing  of 
these  plain  and  audacious  words,  though  he  knew  the  man 
to  whom  they  were  addressed  would  probably  fling  them 
aside  with  contempt  and  forget  them.  Yet  he  felt  he  ought 
to  write  them:  he  was  convinced  that  a  Bishop  ought  to  be 
in  earnest  about  more  important  matters  than  the  shapeli- 
ness of  his  own  legs.  He  went  out  and  posted  the  letter 
himself,  and  on  returning  to  the  hotel  for  breakfast,  was  met 
by  his  American  acquaintance,  Clarence  Howard,  with  the 
morning's  paper  in  his  hand. 

"  Here's  news  that  will  very  likely  interest  you," — he  said 
"  Isn't  this  near  your  place  ?  " 

He  held  out  the  paper,  pointing  to  a  prominent  headline. 

Everton  stared  hardj  scarcely  believing  his  eyes. 

"  GREAT  FIRE  ON  THE  COTSWOLDS. 

"  BREWERY  BURNT  TO  THE  GROUND." 

Eagerly,  almost  breathlessly,  he  scanned  every  word. 
Was  it — could  it  be  true? 

"  The  extensive  premises  of  Messrs.  Minchin  and  Co." 
No,  no,  not  possible!     Minchin's  Brewery  burnt  to  the 


422  HOLY     ORDERS 

ground!  Then  was  the  great  Curse  of  the  neighborhood 
lifted  ?  Could  Heaven  be  so  kind  ?  The  printed  pages  swam 
before  him, — his  pulses  thrilled. 

"  Hullo,  what's  up?"  ejaculated  Howard "You  loot 

as  if  you'd  been  given  a  fortune !  " 

Everton  raised  his  head.  His  eyes  shone  with  a  great 
gladness. 

"  So  I  have !  "  he  answered ;  "  If  this  be  true,  it  means 
more  to  me  than  millions  of  money!  It  means  the  health 
and  safety,  the  thrift  and  honor  and  peace  of  the  people  of 
my  parish, — the  people  I  have  devoted  my  life  to  serve!  It 
means, — why,  you  cannot  imagine  what  it  means!  The 

greatest  obstacle  to  my  work  is  removed, do  you  know 

I  can  hardly  believe  it!  For  the  influence  of  that  Brewery 

in  the  neighborhood  was  as  that  of  a  devil  in  a  paradise ! 

and  that  the  devil  should  be  so  suddenly  cast  out  is  some- 
thing of  a  positive  miracle !  " 

Howard  smiled. 

"  The  devil  may  come  back  again," — he  said "  That 

is  to  say  Minchin  may  re-build !  " 

Everton  shook  his  head. 

"  They  haven't  the  money.  The  company  has  paid  no 
dividends  for  some  time ;  the  business  has  been  steadily  failing 

since "  he  paused,  and  a  shadow  crossed  his  face,  "  since 

my  wife  was  murdered." 

Howard  looked  at  him  with  kindly  sympathy. 

"  I  haven't  heard  the  story," — he  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"The  murderer  was  a  brewery  hand," — went  on  Ever- 
ton, slowly — "  He  had  been  one  of  my  parishioners — but — 
he  left  the  village  to  work  for  Mr.  Minchin.  I  can  only 
suppose  he  was  drunk  when  he  committed  the  crime.  He 
was  always  more  or  less  in  that  condition — and  Mr.  Minchin 

had  been  warned  that  he  was  dangerous.  But  I  believe '" 

he  paused, — "  that  so  far  from  heeding  the  warning,  he  gave 
the  miserable  man  every  possible  opportunity  to  drink  all 
the  more.  Mr.  Howard^  there  are  more  causes  for  evil  than 
are  generally  supposed!  It  is  very  often  not  the  actual  sin- 
ner who  is  most  to  be  blamed,  but  the  man — or  woman — 
who  leads  that  sinner  into  sin !  " 

Howard  was  silent. 

"  Now  if  I  were  a  rich  man," — said  Everton,  with  a  sud- 


HOLY    ORDERS  423 

den  smile,  glancing  again  at  the  newspaper "  I  would 

buy  the  land  on  which  that  brewery  stood " 

"  Would  you  ?  "  Howard  looked  up  quickly "  And 

why?" 

"  I  would  build  there  a  picturesquely  gabled  School  of 
Arts  and  Crafts;  a  kind  of  Guild,  formed  on  the  ethics  of 
Ruskin,  and  it  should  have  a  Social  Club,  where  both  men 
and  women  who  were  working  at  their  various  trades  could 
meet  together;  it  should  have  its  own  orchestra, — its  own 
folklore  society — its  concerts,  its  amusements,  and  a  garden 
where  husbands  and  wives  and  children  could  go  and  sit 
in  the  summer-time  when  work  was  done^  and  have  their 
tea  or  coffee  as  they  do  on  the  Continent,  listening  to  the 
music;  where  they  could  even  have  their  beer — yes! — pro- 
vided it  were  pure  beer  and  non-intoxicant,  such  as  is  sold 
to  the  people  in  Germany.  The  Germans  drink  much  more 
beer  than  the  English,  yet  it  does  not  make  them  drunk. 
But  we,  for  a  paltry  and  wicked  profit,  would  rather  poison 
our  working-men  than  see  to  it  that  they  get  wholesome 
stuff  for  their  money, — and  as  if  poisoned  beer  were  not  bad 
enough,  we  permit  the  sale  of  spirits  which  are  often  so 
heavily  adulterated  that  one  glass  taken  raw  would  almost 
kill  a  man  whose  system  was  not  accustomed  to  drugging. 
Yes !  If  I  were  a  rich  man  I  would  do  something  that  would 
prove  of  more  practical  help  towards  the  general  sobriety  of 
the  nation  than  all  the  talking  in  Parliament ! " 

Howard  listened  with  keen  interest.  Here  was  a  clergy- 
man who  accepted  his  '  Holy  Orders '  in  the  true  spirit  of  a 
high  command, — who  saw  in  those  '  Orders '  a  responsibility 
resting  upon  himself  for  the  care  of  the  bodies,  as  well  as 
the  souls  of  those  human  beings  over  whom  he  exercised  a 
pastor's  control.  And  he  wondered,  supposing  that  every 
clergyman  in  every  parish  of  Great  Britain  were  to  take  up 
the  Drink  question  from  Everton's  practical  and  earnest 
point  of  view,  whether  greater  reforms  might  not  result  than 
from  any  Government  statute?  He  said  something  to  this 
effect,  but  Everton  shook  his  head. 

"  Our  hands  are  tied," — he  said — "  That  is  what  I  want 
you,  and  every  one  else  to  understand.  Our  hands  are  tied. 
Wherever  a  brewery  or  a  distillery  dominates  any  particular 
section  of  a  country,  the  clergy  can  seldom  do  anything  to 


424  HOLY     ORDERS 

check  the  drink  habits  of  the  community.  To  begin  with, 
there  are  the  men  who  work  at  the  brewery  or  the  distillery. 
These  fellows  get  a  certain  quantity  of  '  free '  beer  and 
spirit.  What  are  you  to  do  against  that?  Then,  there  is 
another  point  which  is  never  sufficiently  considered — the 
want  of  method  and  the  thriftlessness  of  British  working- 
men's  wives,  who  never  feed  their  husbands  properly  for  the 
hard  work  of  the  day.  Very  few  of  these  women  can  cook, 
— efforts  have  been  made  to  teach  them,  but  they  will  not 
learn, — and  the  majority  of  working-men,  especially  agri- 
cultural laborers,  start  off  in  the  early  dawn  with  a  mere 
crust  of  bread  and  a  jug  of  badly-made  tea  or  coffee,  half- 
cold, — which  is  not  sufficient  to  keep  up  their  strength  for 
several  hours  of  hard  manual  labor.  Naturally  they  feel  the 
want  of  nourishment  long  before  noon,  and  if  there's  a  pub- 
lic-house handy,  they  get  some  beer.  The  stuff  sold  to  them 
destroys  their  appetites  for  the  poor  noonday  meal  their 
wives  send  out  to  them,  and  it  creates  an  unnatural  thirst 
which  must  be  quenched  by  more  and  still  more  beer.  And 
so  the  mischief  goes  on,  and  will  go  on.  If  I  had  my  way 
there  should  be  movable  half-way  houses  in  every  part  of  the 
country  where  agricultural  labor  is  employed " 

"Half-way  houses?"  repeated  Howard, — "For  what 
purpose  ?  " 

"  For  the  supply  of  proper  food  to  the  tillers  of  the  soil," 
— said  Everton ;  "  Where  they  might  for  a  penny  get  a 
proper  breakfast, — and  for  twopence  or  threepence  a  proper 
dinner,  with  one  glass  of  pure  beer  to  wash  it  down !  These 
men  are  unconscious  sufferers  from  their  ignorance  of  the 
laws  of  health,  and  they  cannot  be  taught  all  at  once;  be- 
sides they  have  no  time  to  learn.  Their  wives,  for  the  most 
part,  are  unpractical ;  one  woman  with  three  or  four  young 
children  is  more  often  in  a  '  muddle '  in  the  early  morning 
than  not,  and  the  husband's  breakfast  is  a  secondary  matter 
to  that  of  the  babies,  so  that  the  actual  breadwinner  fre- 
quently goes  to  his  work  in  a  semi-starved  condition,  while 
his  little  ones  get  the  best  of  whatever  there  is  to  eat.  I've 
seen  it  all,  I  tell  you!  And  I  say  that  the  British  working- 
man  is  not  to  be  set  down  as  a  chronic  drunkard.  He  would 
be  as  sober  and  straight  as  any  man  under  the  sun,  if  he 
could  get  the  proper  food  to  work  on.  And  the  proper  drink ! 


HOLY    ORDERS  425 

We  have  no  right  to  condemn  him  for  insobriety;  it  is  the 
makers  of  the  stuff  he  swallows  that  are  the  real  sinners!  If 
you  feed  a  man  on  absinthe^  he  ends  in  a  lunatic  asylum ;  in 
the  same  way  if  you  feed  a  man  on  doctored  beer  and  adul- 
terated whisky,  you  make  him  a  criminal  and  the  father  of 
criminals.  Yet  the  Government,  in  their  efforts  for  Tem- 
perance Reform,  try  to  lop  off  the  branches  of  the  deadly 
upas-tree  of  Drink,  and  never  strike  at  the  root.  The  root 
is  the  Trade  adulteration  of  what  should  be  pure  and  whole- 
some." 

"  But  there  are  penalties  under  the  law "  began 

Howard. 

"  Penalties  that  are  never  enacted," — rejoined  Everton, 
quickly;  "because  brewers  and  distillers  are  all  in  league 
with  publicans,  wine-merchants  and  grocers;  we  mustn't 
forget  this  latter  branch  of  the  Drink  trade ! — to  throw  dust 
in  the  eyes  of  the  officers  of  the  Excise.  These  men  no  doubt 
do  their  duty,  and  are  possibly  above  bribery;  but  they  can 
be  cheated  in  '  sampling '  as  well  as  other  folks  in  other 
trades.  The  well-known  existence  of  '  brewers'  druggists ' 
ought  to  be  sufficient  to  show  that  drugging  goes  on.  To  me 
the  idea  that  men  should  build  up  huge  fortunes  out  of  the 
sale  of  liquor  that  ruins  the  bodies  and  souls  of  their  fellow- 
men,  is  the  most  horrible  and  appalling  thing  in  the  world !  " 

"And  what  of  the  upper  classes?"  asked  Howard, 
presently,  "  In  your  zeal  for  the  working-men  of  Great 
Britain,  you  have  forgotten  the  drones!  What  kind  of  re- 
form would  you  suggest  in  that  direction?" 

A  sudden  sternness  came  into  Everton's  eyes. 

"The  upper  classes?"  he  echoed,  "The  upper  classes — " 

"Yes;  the  upper  classes," — repeated  Howard,  with  em- 
phasis— "  They  lead !  They  drink  like  fish  in  the  sea,  with- 
out the  fish  necessity.  The  men  swill  whisky, — the  women 
do  the  same,  except  when  they  prefer  morphia.  The  extent 
of  the  evil  is  almost  measureless, — because  half  of  it  is  secret. 
Men  drink  in  secret;  women  drink  in  secret.  Only  the  eye 
that  is  trained  like  a  physician's  to  note  the  unsteadiness  of 
lip-lines,  the  nervous  contraction  of  hands,  the  restlessness 
of  movement  and  the  wandering  of  attention,  can  detect  the 
working  of  the  vice  on  the  apparently  sober  '  lady  of  fashion  ' 
or  '  man  about  town,'  but  Drink  is  as  much  the  curse  of  the 


426  HOLY     ORDERS 

'  Upper  Ten '  as  ft  is  of  the  Lowest  Million.  How  would 
you  set  about  reforming  '  Court  and  Society  '  ?  Tell  me ! 
For  if  ever  Court  and  Society  were  in  a  bad  way  they  are  at 
this  present  day !  " 

Everton  was  silent  for  a  little  space.  His  thoughts  re- 
turned to  Jacynth;  again  he  seemed  to  see  the  exquisite  face 
fading  away  into  the  sunset,  beside  the  heavy  sensual  coun- 
tenance of  Claude  Ferrers, — again  his  inner  consciousness 
told  him  that  for  the  sins  these  two  were  sinning  they  had 
no  regret  and  no  repentance;  and  that  for  hundreds  of  other 
men  and  women  like  them  there  was  no  hope,  because  there 
was  no  faith. 

"  I  am  afraid," — he  said,  at  last,  "  that  for  Court  and 
Society  I  can  suggest  nothing  save  that  remedy  which  God 
enforces  at  given  times, — Change!  What  change  it  may  be, 
or  how  it  will  be  brought  about,  I  cannot  even  picture.  But 
it  is  easier  to  raise  the  poor  to  a  higher  level  of  thought  and 
feeling  than  it  is  to  bring  so-called  '  cultured  '  persons  down 
from  the  summit  of  supreme  Egotism  which  they  appear  to 
have  reached  at  this  present  time.  My  work  will  never  lead 
me  into  '  society '  surroundings/' — he  paused,  and  his  pale 
face  flushed  a  little — then  he  added — "  I  should  perhaps  tell 
you  that  you  were  right  when  you  said  that  I  was  being 
helped  along  by  a  '  boom  *  in  the  press.  I  found  it  all  out, — 
yesterday.  And  I  have  put  a  stop  to  it." 

Howard  opened  his  eyes  in  astonishment. 

"  You  have  put  a  stop  to  it?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes.  I  shall  not  be  heard  of  in  the  newspapers  any 
more!  "  And  Everton's  smile  was  very  happy  as  he  said 
this: — "I  hope  you  understand  that  nothing  would  more 

offend  my  sense  of  right  than  a  fictitious  renown? to 

feel  that  I  was  being  '  backed  up  '  like  a  race-horse,  by  some 
influence  of  which  I  did  not  approve,  and  for  which  I  could 
never  be  grateful?  I  am  merely  the  Vicar  of  Shadbrook; 
and  my  preaching  is  for  the  people  of  my  parish.  The  wider 
world  has  no  need  of  me." 

Howard  looked  at  him  fixedly  as  though  he  were  some 
curious  natural  phenomenon. 

"That's  your  opinion,  is  it?"  he  said,  cheerily,  and  a 

broad  smile  lightened  his  visage "  Well !  We'll  see  how 

far  you're  proved  correct!  Meantime,  look  here — if  you'll 


HOLY    ORDERS  427 

ask  me  down  to  this  Shadbrook  of  yours  some  day,  I'll  come ! 
I  guess  I'll  find  business  there  to  suit  me!  Let  me  know 
how  you  find  things  when  you  get  back,  and  if  this  brewery 
is  really  burnt  out,  tell  me  when  the  land's  for  sale ! " 

Everton  laughed  and  promised,  treating  his  words  as  a 
joke.  They  had  some  further  talk,  and  then  parted  on 
terms  of  mutual  liking,  arranging  to  see  each  other  soon 
again.  Once  or  twice  Everton  was  half-inclined  to  tell  so 
genial  an  acquaintance  of  his  yesterday's  experience,  but  as 
it  would  have  involved  an  explanation  of  his  former  knowl- 
edge of  Jacynth,  he  decided  on  the  wiser  course  of  silence. 

He  left  London  for  Shadbrook  that  morning  before  noon, 
thinking  all  the  way  in  the  train  of  the  unexpected  news  that 
was  fraught  with  such  important  changes  to  him  and  to  his 

parish the  burning  down  of  Minchin's  Brewery.  When 

he  arrived  at  the  station  where  his  old  mare  with  the  high 
dog-cart  awaited  him,  he  was  addressed  at  once  by  the  porter 
who  took  his  luggage. 

"  'Twas  a  big  blaze  at  Minchin's  last  night,  sir! " 

"  Yes I've  seen  an  account  of  it  in  the  papers," 

he  said ;  "  Is  the  place  quite  destroyed  ?  " 

"  To  the  very  ground,  sir !  The  fire  broke  out  about  half- 
past  seven  in  the  evening,  and  what  was  a  queer  thing,  it 
seemed  to  come  not  only  from  one  but  from  all  sides  of  the 
brewery  buildings!  We  telegraphed  all  over  the  place  for 
fire-engines,  which  as  you  know,  sir,  are  a  terrible  time  com- 
ing when  they're  wanted  in  outlying  country  districts,  and 
when  they  did  come,  the  fire  had  got  it  all  its  own  way.  The 
flames  were  seen  for  miles  and  miles  around !  " 

Everton  could  not  look  very  concerned;  there  was  too 
much  joy  and  thankfulness  in  his  eyes. 

"  Any  cause  assigned  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  sir,  they  do  say  that  Mr.  Minchin,  being  so  hard 
,up,  set  fire  to  it  himself,  hoping  to  get  the  insurance  money! 
But  you  know  what  a  rare  place  this  is  for  talk,  and  it's  only 
.a  tale!" 

Everton  smiled,  nodded  kindly,  and  drove  off  through  the 
scented  dewy  lanes  with  a  wonderful  lightness  of  heart. 
•Only  one  saddened  thought  crossed  his  mind, — that  Azalea 
was  not  alive  to  rejoice  with  him  at  the  unexpected  deliver- 
,ance  now  granted  to  the  neighborhood.  And  why  could  not 


428  HOLY     ORDERS 

such  deliverance  have  come  earlier,  before  all  the  trouble  and 
disaster  and  tragedy  had  occurred  of  which  the  brewery  was 
the  latent  cause.  Surely  the  ways  of  destiny  were  hard  and 
past  finding  out!  As  the  mare  trotted  across  the  bridge  be- 
tween '  old  '  Shadbrook  and  '  new,'  a  sudden  flashing  recol- 
lection of  Jacynth  came  before  him,  and  he  saw,  as  it  were, 
three  pictures  of  her — one  as  the  village  girl,  in  her  simple 
blue  cotton  frock  with  the  bunch  of  spring  flowers  at  her 
throat,  another  as  the  '  society '  beauty  in  her  wonderful 
gown  of  clinging  lace  with  the  sparkle  of  jewels  about  her 

and  last  of  all,  as  a  face  only,  a  face  of  exquisite  human 

perfection,  vanishing,  vanishing  into  thin  air! 

"  So  must  she  vanish  from  my  life !  "  he  said  to  his  inward 
self ;  "  She,  to  whom  my  senses  might  have  yielded  had  not 
my  soul  repelled  her,  must  disappear — out  of  my  sight  for 
ever!" 

He  turned  into  the  Vicarage  gate.  His  heart  thrilled 
with  a  quick  pang  as  he  thought  what  a  different  home-com- 
ing his  would  have  been  could  he  have  seen  Azalea's  sweet 
presence  smiling  at  him  from  the  doorway  as  he  approached 
the  house.  But  he  was  not  allowed  to  feel  utterly  lonely, 
for  half-way  along  the  drive  he  wras  met  by  a  little  flying 
figure  with  curly  hair  shining  like  a  mop  of  gold  in  the  sun. 

"Dad!     Dad!     Home  again!     Hurra!" 

And  Laurence,  rosy-cheeked  and  bright-eyed,  with  restless 
feet  that  danced  to  and  fro  for  sheer  delight  at  sight  of  his 
father,  ran  alongside  the  old  mare  in  a  state  of  the  wildest 
excitement. 

'*  Brewery's  all  burnt!  "  he  shouted,  breathlessly;  "  Nursie 
and  I  could  see  all  the  fire  from  the  windows !  The  sky  was 
red — ever  so  red ! — and  such  lots  of  smoke !  " 

Everton  drew  up  at  his  own  house  door,  and  springing 
down  from  the  dog-cart  caught  his  little  son  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  him  fondly,  then  lifted  him  and  set  him  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  Brewery  burnt,  eh  ?  " — he  said, — "  A  nice  big  bonfire  for 
you,  wasn't  it !  Bigger  than  any  bonfire  you've  ever  seen !  " 

"  Oh,  much,  much  bigger!"  exclaimed  Laurence,  enthusi- 
astically ;  "  But  nobody  was  hurted !  It  was  the  beer  that 
was  burnt — and  the  barley,  and  the  hops — and  the  malt — " 

"  And  the  poison !  "  finished  Everton ;  "  Well,  that's  not 


HOLY    ORDERS  429 

much  loss,  my  boy !  And  how  have  you  got  on  with  the  les- 
sons I  left  you  to  do?  " 

Forthwith  Laurence  began  to  chatter, — and  by  tea-time 
the  Vicar  had  well-nigh  forgotten  there  was  such  a  place  as 
London  on  the  earth,  or  that  he  had  ever  been  to  it.  Sitting 
peacefully  in  his  own  garden,  amid  a  wealth  of  roses  and 
other  summer  blossoms,  he  listened,  enchanted,  to  the  child's 
vivacious  and  eager  talk  about  the  way  the  time  had  passed 
during  his  absence;  the  little  voice,  with  a  sweet  ring  in  it 
like  that  of  Azalea's,  was  music  to  his  soul. 

"  On  Sunday  it  was  a  bit  slow,"  said  the  boy,  with  a 
comical  expression  of  solemnity ;  "  I  don't  know  what  you 
were  doing,  but  we  weren't  doing  much.  The  man  who 
preached  the  sermon  in  church  was  all  right,  but  of  course 
he  wasn't  you.  And  a  lot  of  old  women  waited  about  in  the 
churchyard  to  grumble — and  one  of  them  said  to  me :  '  Good- 
morning,  Master  Laurence,  I  hope  your  good  papa  won't  be 
very  long  away,' — and  I  said :  '  No,  ma'am,  don't  worry, 
please;  Dad's  coming  home  directly! ' — and  she  said: '  Thank 
goodness  to  the  Lord,  for  we  misses  him  badly.'  "  Here 
Laurence  laughed  merrily.  "  And  after  dinner  Nursie  said 
I  was  to  sit  in  the  garden  with  a  book,  so  I  got  Andersen's 
Tales  and  read  about  '  What  the  Moon  Saw.'  I  like  that. 
But  I  think  I  like  '  The  Shadow '  better.  You  see  the 
Shadow  got  all  the  good  things  instead  of  the  Learned  Man, 
and  I  suppose  that's  likely  to  be  true.  Then  I  read  some 
poetry,  and  wrote  some." 

Everton  smiled. 

"You  wrote  some,  did  you?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  often  do.  Things  I  think  about  go  into 
rhyme  by  themselves.  I'll  show  you  how  some  day.  But 
I've  got  all  my  lessons  ready  for  you.  Oh^  and  Dad!  Father 
Douay  came  over  yesterday  afternoon  to  know  when  you'd 
be  back,  and  he  said  he'd  come  again  to-day.  But  the- brew- 
ery wasn't  burnt  then, — perhaps  he  won't  come  now." 

"Why  shouldn't  he?" 

"  Well,  Nursie  says  there  are  some  cottages  just  by  the 
brewery  that  caught  fire  too,  and  Father  Douay  helped  to 
get  all  the  furniture  out.  They  were  awful  poor  people  that 
had  the  furniture.  They  weren't  hurted  themselves,  but 
they'd  have  lost  all  their  beds  and  chairs  and  tables  if  it 


430  HOLY     ORDERS 

hadn't  been  for  Father  Douay.  So  I  expect  he's  still  pretty 
busy,  for  the  fire  isn't  all  out  yet,  and  the  engines  are 
pumping,  and  the  gardener  says  everything  is  '  all  of  a 
smoke.'  Mr.  Minchin's  there,  but  Mrs.  Minchin's  runned 
away." 

"  Not  runned  away,  boy!  "  expostulated  his  father  mildly; 
"  It  should  be  '  run  away.'  " 

"  Run  away,"  repeated  Laurence,  obediently, — "  I  know 
how  it  should  be,  but  old  Peter  always  says  runned." 

'  Old  Peter '  was  the  gardener,  with  whom  Laurence  was 
on  terms  of  the  friendliest  confidence. 

Everton  smiled. 

"  And,"  the  boy  added  as  an  after-thought, — "  Mr.  Mor- 
tar Pike  in  the  village  says  the  same.  Is  Mr.  Pike  a  hun- 
dred years  old,  Dad  ?  " 

"  He's  going  on  that  way,"  answered  Everton,  laughing 
a  little ;  "  He  will  be,  if  he  holds  on  a  bit  longer." 

"And  what  will  he  do  then?" 

"  Why,  what  can  he  do?  "  queried  Everton,  lightly,  look- 
ing at  Laurence's  earnest  eyes  and  changeful  expression,  and 
thinking  how  much  he  just  then  resembled  his  mother — 
"  Except  make  the  best  of  it !  " 

"  I  expect  he'll  have  a  bonfire," — said  Laurence,  thought- 
fully, "  It's  the  only  thing  for  a  man  of  that  age !  " 

"You  think  so?"  said  Everton,  amused. 

"  Why,  yes !  Birthday  presents  are  no  use, — he  wouldn't 
know  what  to  do  with  them.  And  it's  no  good  saying: 
'  Many  happy  returns  of  the  day!  *  A  bonfire  would  be  just 
right." 

"Why?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  the  fire  would  be  like  the  burning  up  of 
everything,  all  his  life,  and  whatever  he  had  done  in  it. 
Then  there  would  be  a  heap  of  ashes — like  his  poor  old 
body  when  the  soul  had  gone  away.  And  the  soul  would  be 
the  flame  of  the  fire,  rising  into  heaven.  Oh  yes,  a  bonfire  is 
the  only  thing  for  an  old  man's  birthday !  " 

Just  then  a  bell  rang,  summoning  the  small  philosopher 
to  his  tea,  and  he  ran  off,  promising  to  return  directly  the 
meal  was  over.  His  father  smiled,  watching  him  scamper 
into  the  house,  and  anon  sighed, — wondering  for  the  thou- 
sandth time  what  this  child  would  be  when  a  public  school 


HOLY    ORDERS  431 

had,  as  a  well-known  tutor  of  the  day  had  remarked — 
'  knocked  the  nonsense  out  of  him.'  The  '  nonsense '  was 
very  sweet  just  now.  The  teasing  memory  of  Jacynth  came 
back  to  him, — he  thought  of  her  yesterday's  shameless  con- 
fession— of  her  heartless  remark  concerning  the  death  of 
her  child, — he  recalled  the  lines  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Brown- 
ing in  '  Aurora  Leigh  ' : — 

'  I  thought  a  child  was  given  to  sanctify 

A  woman, set  her  in  the  sight  of  all 

The  clear-eyed  Heavens,  a  chosen  minister 
To  do  their  business  and  lead  spirits  up 
The  difficult  blue  heights ! ' 

There  was  no  such  '  sanctification  '  for  Jacynth ;  she  was 
probably  one  of  the  many  who  nowadays  resent  motherhood 
as  an  inconvenience. 

"  I  wish," — he  said,  half-aloud — "  the  Church  could  get 
rid  of  that  foolish  curse  on  Eve  in  Genesis — '  In  sorrow 
shalt  thou  bring  forth  children,  and  thy  desire  shall  be  to 
thy  husband  and  he  shall  rule  over  thee.'  Moses  was  ill- 
advised  when  he  set  that  down,  if  he  did  set  it  down.  It 
should  have  read : — '  In  gladness  shalt  thou  bring  forth  chil- 
dren, and  thy  safety  shall  be  thy  husband  and  he  shall  cher- 
ish thee.' " 

Here  an  approaching  step  interrupted  his  meditations,  and 
looking  up  he  saw  Sebastien  Douay  crossing  the  gravel  path 
from  the  Vicarage  and  coming  towards  him.  He  hastened 
to  meet  him,  and  at  once  perceived  that  the  little  priest  was 
not  so  cheery  as  usual,  despite  his  genial  smile. 

"  So!  You  are  back  again  from  town,  my  good  Richard!  " 
he  said,  "  And  such  news  to  greet  your  arrival !  The  devil 
has  destroyed  his  own  in  his  native  element!  " 

"  It  is  amazing  news  indeed !  "  rejoined  Everton,  "  I  saw 
the  first  account  of  it  in  a  London  newspaper  this  morning. 
I  could  hardly  believe  it!  " 

"  Nor  I  at  first/'  and  Douay  sat  down  rather  wearily  in  a 
garden  chair  beside  his  friend — "  Excuse  me  if  I  am  lazy ! 
I  have  been  up  all  night.  No,  not  even  when  I  saw  the 
flames,  could  I  believe  it!  It  seemed  too  good  to  be  true! 
The  fire  broke  out  at  half-past  seven.  It  was  half-past 


432  HOLY     ORDERS 

eight  before  the  first  engine  arrived — and  then — too  late! 
The  whole  place  was  in  a  blaze!  Roofs  fell  in,  chimneys 
toppled  and  crashed! — mon  Dieu! — it  was  a  wonderful 
sight!  No  lives  lost — and  you  know  what  is  said?  " 

"That  Minchin  himself  kindled  the  flames?" 

"  Exactly.  And," — here  Douay  rubbed  his  nose  very 
hard  as)  was  his  habit  in  perplexity — "  I  am  not  so  sure  the 
story  isn't  true.  Now  I, — par  exemple — if  the  insurance 
company  should  seek  evidence,  could  be  a  most  awkward 
witness.  For  I  saw, — shall  I  tell  you  what  I  saw?  Or 
shall  I  involve  you — my  friend — by  hazard  in  legal  trouble? 
Will  they  come  to  you  and  say : — '  Were  you  told  by  the 
Reverend  Father  Douay  so-and-so  ?  '  Or  '  What  was  your 
impression  when  the  Reverend  Father  Douay  said  so-and- 
so?'" 

"  It  won't  matter  if  they  do," — laughed  Everton.  "  I 
wasn't  on  the  scene  of  action." 

"  Ah,  you  can  prove  an  alibi! — that  is  true !  "  And 
Douay's  eyes  twinkled  whimsically — "  well  then,  I  will  risk 
all  danger!  And  what  I  can  say  is  this.  That  the  men, 
most  of  them  casual  hands,  all  left  the  brewery  at  six 
o'clock  as  is  usual.  There  is  a  fair,  with  merry-go-rounds 
for  the  children  put  up  about  a  mile  from  the  village — 
and  many  of  them  went  there  after  work  to  spend  the 
evening.  Everything  was  quite  quiet  in  the  place.  I  sit 
by  myself  in  my  cottage  reading.  I  look  out  of  the  window. 
I  see  Mistaire  Minchin  stroll  by.  You  know  the  large 
gateway  of  the  brewery  is  very  nearly  opposite  to  me — and 
the  vans  and  carts  come  in  and  go  out  there  every  morning. 
Mistaire  Minchin  is  not  a  van  or  a  cart — he  is  a  sly  fox, 
and  though  he  walks  on  two  legs  he  does  it  in  a  way  that 
reminds  you  of  something  secret,  creeping  on  all  fours.  So 
he,  with  that  creeping  step,  goes  in  at  the  big  gate.  I  stand 
by  my  window  and  wait  for  him  to  come  out  again.  But 
he  does  not  come.  And  as  I  watch,  I  see  his  face  for  one 
moment  at  an  opening  up  in  one  of  the  store-houses.  Then 
it  vanish!  I  see  it  no  more.  All  is  very  still  and  at  peace. 
I  take  up  my  book  and  read  again.  All  at  once  I  hear  a 
step  walking  fast,  very  fast,  along  the  road  outside  my 
cottage.  I  look  out — Mistaire  Minchin!  His  creep  has 
become  a  run.  He  goes  straight  for  his  own  house,  and  he 


HOLY    ORDERS  433 

disappears.  Ten  minutes  after  that  I  see  a  red  flash  on  my 
wall!  Another — yet  another!  I  go  to  my  window  and 
open  it.  People  open  more  windows — for  there  are  more 
red  flashes.  Suddenly  some  one  calls  '  Fire !  Fire ! '  and 
then  everyone  is  in  the  street  all  at  once.  A  boy  rushes  off 
crying :  '  Fire !  Fire !  The  brewery  is  on  fire ! '  Other  per- 
sons shout  '  Minchin !  Fetch  Mistaire  Minchin ! '  and  then 
— please  consider  this,  my  friend! — then  it  turns  out  that 
Mistaire  Minchin  is  not  at  home!  He  has  been  away 
motoring  all  the  afternoon  and  has  not  yet  returned!  Now 
is  not  that  a  strange  thing?"  And  Douay  leaned  forward 
in  an  argumentative  manner — "  I  am  not  mad — I  do  not 
drink — how  was  it  then,  that  I  saw  him  go  into  the  brewery? 
— and  afterwards  return  to  his  own  house  ten  minutes 
before  the  fire  broke  out?  Yet — he  was  not  at  home!  He 
had  not  returned!  No  one  had  seen  him — no  one  but 
this  poor  little  priest,  myself!  But  there  is  one  thing — 
I  shall  not  offer  to  give  evidence.  If  he  has  burnt  down  his 
brewery,  it's  the  best  thing  he  has  ever  done  in  his  life!  He 
shall  not  get  into  trouble  about  it  through  me!  " 

"  But  if  he  claims  the  insurance?  "  said  Everton. 

"  That  is  the  insurance  company's  affair,  not  mine," — 
answered  Douay,  with  a  little  shrug  of  his  shoulders — "  Let 
their  solicitors  make  inquiry  of  his  solicitors,  and  let  both 
sides  run  up  long  bills  for  asking  questions  and  answering 
them!  It  is  the  way  for  the  obtaining  of  justice.  And  it 
will  be  a  long  time  before  Mistaire  Minchin  gets  his 
'  claim '  attended  to,  and  still  longer  before  he  gets  any 
money  paid,  if  at  all.  As  for  me — I  shall  be  far  away !  " 

Everton  was  startled  by  these  last  words,  and  more  so 
by  the  sorrowful  look  which  accompanied  them. 

"  Far  away?  "  he  echoed — "  You  are  not  going " 

"  Alas,  yes,  my  dear  friend !  I  am  going — and  you  and  I 
must  part  for  a  time — perhaps  a  long  time ! — I  do  not  know ! 
I  have  had  a  letter  from  one  who  is  my  ecclesiastical  Su- 
perior,— a  letter  that  is  not  pleasant.  He  tells  me  I  have 
failed  in  my  mission.  I  have  been  four  years  and  a  little 
longer  in  this  neighborhood,  and  I  have  not  made  sufficient 
converts  to  fill  a  church.  Well!  That  is  true!  I  confess 
it.  It  is  your  fault,  my  Richard!  For  it  is  not  poss-eeble 
to  make  converts  anywhere  in  the  sphere  of  your  influence !  " 


434  HOLY     ORDERS 

Everton  was  silent.     His  eyes  were  grave  and  wistful. 

"  You  understand !  "  went  on  Douay,  gently — "  It  is  to 
your  praise — not  to  your  blame — that  I  have  failed.  I, 
the  failure,  rejoice  in  your  strength!  That  I  am  called 
elsewhere  is  perhaps  best.  I  shall  be  sent  where  there  are 
the  weak,  and  not  the  strong.  For  see!  It  is  this  way — if 
every  minister  of  what  you  call  your  Church  Protestant 
were  like  you,  there  would  be  no  other  sect  poss-eeble — no 
Methodist,  Baptist,  Wesleyan,  or  any  other! — no! — because 
where  all  is  simple  and  true  there  is  no  need  for  differences. 
Why  are  there  quarrels  in  religion?  Because  one  half  of 
the  ministers  are  not  sure  of  Christ!  The  illness  of  unbe- 
lief is  catching.  If  the  shepherds  do  not  know  into  which 
fields  to  lead  their  flocks,  the  flocks  copy  the  wandering 
habit.  Now,  you  desire  to  follow  Christ  like  a  child — and 
your  sincerity  is  so  great  that  you  are  bound  to  suffer  for  it. 
But  you  will  keep  many  souls  safe  for  Heaven !  " 

Everton  stretched  out  a  hand  and  laid  it  affectionately  on 
his  shoulder. 

"Must  you  really  go?     Could  nothing  persuade  you?" 

"To  disobey  my  Church?"  queried  Douay,  smiling  a 
little,  "  Nothing!  Once  a  priest,  always  a  priest,  mon  ami! 

I  shall  miss  you "  A  slight  tremor  interrupted  his  voice 

and  he  paused  a  moment.  Then  he  resumed — "  Yes,  I 
shall  miss  you,  Richard ! — more  than  any  man  I  ever  knew  5 
I  shall  miss  the  boy — it  will  be  taking  myself  away  from  a 
home  like  the  one  I  left  in  France — where  I  had  learned 
to  love  many  things!  But  what  would  you?  Life  is  but 
change ! — I  must  move  like  a  leaf  in  the  wind !  And  perhaps 
I  shall  not  be  sent  out  of  England — we  may  meet  often. 
But  here  it  is  true  I  can  do  nothing — I  bow  to  my  Superior's 
decision !  You  are  master  of  the  situation !  " 

"  I  cannot  bear  you  to  put  it  in  that  way," — said  Ever- 
ton, warmly — "  It  is  almost  as  if  I  were  the  cause  of  ban- 
ishing my  best  friend." 

"  Ah  bah !  "  exclaimed  Douay,  good-humoredly — "  Think 
not  at  all  of  it  so!  It  is  true  you  are  an  opponent  of  the 
Church  Catholique — and  speaking  between  ourselves,  it  is 
right  you  should  be  so,  if  you  are  a  patriot  and  desire  to 
keep  your  country  free, — but  you  are  no  bigot, — you  are  an 
honest  opponent,  and  if  there  were  many  Church  of  England 


HOLY    ORDERS  435 

ministers  like  you  it  would  be  bad  for  the  Holy  Father's 
British  revenues!  But  there  is  no  fear! — you  are  only  one 
in  ten  or  twenty  thousand!  And  with  all  your  troubles — 
your  great  bereavement — your  broken  heart — see  how  the 
road  is  cleared  for  your  future  labors!  No  more  brewery! 
— the  power  of  the  Drink  is  lessened, — the  village  is  given 
into  your  hands.  And  it  is  such  a  stupid  village!  What 
will  you  do  with  it  ?  " 

Everton  thought  for  a  moment.  Then  he  answered 
slowly : — 

"  I  will  do  my  best  with  it.  My  best  is  not  much — but 
it  will  be  all  my  life !  " 

"  All  your  life !  "  and  Douay  sighed — "  My  friend,  it  is 
a  martyrdom !  " 

Everton  smiled, — a  very  tender  and  hopeful  smile. 

"  No !  "  he  answered,  quietly — "  My  martyrdom  is  over." 

And  the  kindling  light  of  a  deep  feeling  illumined  his 
face,  as  he  went  on : — 

"  You  call  it  a  stupid  village.  It  is.  There  are  thou- 
sands of  villages  like  it  in  dullness  and  stupidity  all  over 
the  British  Isles!  And  why?  The  people  are  only  given 
just  enough  '  education,'  as  it  is  called,  to  make  them  rest- 
less and  discontented.  And  in  outlying  country  places  this 
education  is  imparted  to  them  by  teachers  who  are  only  a 
shade  less  ignorant  than  themselves.  Teachers  in  rural 
schools  are  frequently  selected  for  their  posts  through  '  local ' 
influence  and  private  wire-working,  despite  assertions  to  the 
contrary;  and  very  often  these  inadequate  persons  are  so 
ill-fitted  for  their  responsibilities  that  they  have  to  learn 
all  they  will  ever  know,  out  of  the  very  school-books  from 
which  they  are  required  to  teach  the  children.  Of  practical 
training,  such  as  shall  serve  to  fit  out  the  youths  and  maidens 
for  life — such  as  shall  show  them  how  to  manage  farms,  till 
the  soil,  and  appreciate  the  bounteous  prodigality  of  nature 
who  so  openly  invites  her  offspring  to  draw  from  her  re- 
sources all  that  they  need — of  this  they  get  nothing.  Nor 
are  they  taught  any  home  '  craft '  or  '  hobby  '  by  which  they 
might  feed  their  minds  in  vacant  hours  and  find  entertain- 
ment for  themselves  in  the  long  winter  evenings.  The  waste 
of  brain  and  eye  and  hand, — the  waste  of  power  and  in- 
tellectual capacity  of  the  noble  working-classes  of  Great 


436  HOLY     ORDERS 

Britain  is  enormous,  cruel,  and  lamentable!  For  it  is  not 
their  fault.  It  is  the  fault  of  our  governing  methods,  which 
leave  them  without  the  right  encouragement  for  their  labors, 
or  the  right  entertainment  for  their  minds.  Now  here — 
in  Shadbrook — I  am  quietly  working  along  on  both  those 
lines—-" 

"Helas!  I  fear  you  will  not  succeed!"  said  Douay, 
shaking  his  head  vigorously. 

"  I  think  I  shall," — rejoined  Everton — "  The  great  ob- 
stacle to  all  sane,  healthy  and  happy  living  is  the  Drink,  of 
course.  And  this  was  my  trouble  with  my  parishioners — 
but  it  has  been  growing  less  and  less — and  now — with  the 
sudden  destruction  of  Minchin's  brewery,  it  may  die  but 
altogether.  Is  it  not  strange  that  in  the  first  sermon  I 
preached  here  after  my  darling's  death  I  should  have  said 
these  words : — '  I  shall  pray  God  daily  and  nightly  that  He 
may  see  fit,  in  His  wonder-working  wisdom,  to  remove 
the  temptations  to  sin  that  abound  in  this  neighborhood  '  ? 
And  I  also  said : — '  For  you  only  I  will  ask — that  God  may 
give  you  to  me !  That  God  may  show  me  how  to  make  you 
happy  in  your  labors  and  your  lives — that  He  may  help  me 
to  teach  your  children  the  sweet  unspeakable  content  that  is 
found  in  clean,  simple  and  temperate  ways;  and  that  the 
tears  I  have  shed  and  the  despair  I  have  known  may  be 
acceptable  to  Him  as  a  poor  sacrifice  of  love  on  my  part.' 
A  poor  sacrifice  of  love!  That  is — that  will  be  my  life  in 
Shadbrook!" 

Douay's  eyes  grew  dim. 

"  You  are  a  good  man,  my  Richard !  "  he  said,  softly — 
"  I  think  the  angels  love  you !  " 

"  I  hope  one  angel  does!  "  Richard  answered,  with  a 
musing  tenderness — "  One  that  is  always  near!  "  He  paused 
a  moment — then  continued — "Yes! — it  is>  as  you  say  a 
stupid  village.  Nevertheless,  my  dear  Douay,  there  is 
heart  in  it!  I  never  thought  there  was  so  much,  till  my 
wife  was  taken  from  me.  They — the  villagers — misunder- 
stood her,  poor  little  soul! — she  was  too  pretty  and  merry 
and  thoughtless — but  they  are  sorry  now.  And  they  show 
me  how  sorry  they  are.  They  try  to  please  me  in  all  the 
ways  they  can — they  fight  against  the  drink — and  in  this 
they  are  greatly  helped  by  their  love  for  my  boy.  Douay,  it 


HOLY    ORDERS  437 

is  an  odd  thing,  perhaps, — but  do  you  know  I  don't  believe 
there's  a  man  in  or  near  Shadbrook  who  would  be  seen 
drunk  by  my  little  lad!  " 

"  He  is'  your  oriflamme," — said  Douay,  tenderly — "  The 
sign  of  your  Holy  Orders !  " 

"  Such  a  little  fellow!  "  went  on  Everton — "  And  yet  his 
influence  is  extraordinary!  He  makes  it  a  habit  to  run 
down  into  the  village  every  day  and  talk  to  everybody — 
he  has  no  fixed  time  for  this,  and  the  consequence  is  every 
cottage  is  kept  clean  and  tidy  at  all  hours  '  in  case  Master 
Laurence  looks  in.'  He  told  the  women  they  should  keep 
flowers  in  the  windows, — well! — all  the  boys  went  to 
work  and  knocked  up  window  boxes,  and  flowers  were 
planted  in  them,  so  that  the  village  looks  florally  decorated 
now " 

"  I  have  noticed  that,"  said  Douay — "  I  thought  it  was 
your  persuasion " 

"  Oh  no !  '  Master  Laurence  likes  it  so.'  He  suggested 
to  the  grocer  that  the  donkey  that  drew  the  wood-cart  was 
getting  too  old  to  work  and  '  Neddy  ought  to  have  a  good 
time  now  like  Mr.  Mortar  Pike ' — that  was  the  way  he 
put  it.  Neddy  is  therefore  turned  out  to  grass  '  to  please 
Master  Laurence.'  "  And  Everton  laughed.  "  The  child 
is  more  active  in  doing  good  than  a  curate!  " 

Douay  looked  at  him  thoughtfully. 

"  Your  way  of  work  is  a  wise  way,  Richard," — he  said — 
"  You  reach  your  people  through  the  heart — through  the 
sentiment.  It  is  the  right  way — the  only  way!  You  give 
yourself  to  them — yourself,  with  your  home,  your  child, 
your  hopes,  your  plans,  your  strength,  your  weakness " 

"Ah! — do  not  forget  my  weakness!"  interrupted  Ever- 
ton— "  For  that  is  great !  But  it  helps  me  to  be  one  with 
my  weakest  parishioners — and  to  sympathize  with  the 
'  stupid  village '  as  I  could  never  sympathize  with  stupider 
London !  " 

"  Stupider  London !  "  exclaimed  Douay — "  My  friend, 
think !  Stupid !  The  world's  metropolis !  " 

"  That  is  just  it — the  world's  metropolis !  " — and  moved 
by  a  sudden  thrill  of  passionate  indignation,  Everton  sprang 
up  from  his  chair  and  confronted  his  friend  with  the  eager 
air  of  an  orator  aroused  to  denounce  some  national  wrong 


438  HOLY     ORDERS 

— "  The  core  of  civilization,  in  which  there  breeds  '  the 
worm  that  dieth  not ' !  The  world's  metropolis,  where  the 
bulk  of  the  inhabitants  find  nothing  better,  higher  or  nobler 
to  do  than  scramble  for  money  at  the  risk  of  everything 
else, — honor,  principle,  feeling,  love,  duty,  faith!  The 
world's  metropolis! — whose  wealthier  classes  spend  all  their 
time  in  feeding  and  frivolity; — when  they  are  not  eating, 
they  are  sleeping — and  when  they  are  neither  sleeping  nor 
eating,  they  are  busy  with  intrigues  against  the  peace  and 
prosperity  of  their  neighbors; — or  else  they  are  breeding  the 
same  silk-worm  type  of  human  beings  as  themselves,  drone- 
men  and  drone-women,  who  expect  to  live  on  the  fruit  and 
foliage  of  luxury  provided  by  the  drudging  toil  of  the 
despised  Working  Million!  Babylon  over  again! — one  can 
read  the  writing  of  doom  upon  the  wall !  That  is  why  I  say 
'  stupid  '  London, — for  a  city  that  will  not  take  warning 
from  past  history — a  city  that  has  all  the  advantages  of 
progress,  the  graces  of  culture,  the  accomplishments  of  art, 
the  discoveries  of  science,  and  yet  that  cannot  '  lead  '  in  any- 
thing but  immorality  and  indecency,  is  '  stupid  '  beyond  the 
utmost  bounds  of  stupidity!  It  knows,  or  it  should  know, 
that  if  it  allows  itself  to  be  swarmed  over  by  Jews  and  un- 
desirable aliens,  like  the  body  of  a  shot  bird  swarmed  over 
by  vermin,  it  has  nothing  to  expect  but  corruption!  It 
knows,  or  it  should  know,  that  if  it  condones  immorality  in 
the  family  life,  indecency  on  the  stage  and  in  literature,  and 
laxity  of  principle  in  the  authorities  of* the  State,  it  is  making 
of  itself  nothing  but  a  gunpowder  magazine  which  is  bound 
to  explode  for  the  disaster  of  the  nation,  at  the  first  spark 
of  Revolution!  Stupid  London?  Yes,  I  say  stupid,  densely 
stupid  London,  which  allows  itself  to  be  led  astray  and 
fooled,  by  a  corrupt  society  and  a  corruptible  press !  " 

He  spoke  with  heat  and  fervor — and  Douay  stared  at  him 
astonished.  After  a  minute's  pause,  he  threw  back  his  head 
with  a  careless  gesture  and  laughed. 

"There!  The  fit  is  over!"  he  said— "  Don't  look  so 
surprised!  I  heard  things  in  town  that  sickened  me — I  saw 
— what  I  wish  to  forget!  Even  in  the  Church — but  I  will 
not  speak  of  that!  When  I  worked  as  a  curate  in  the  East 
End  of  London  I  met  with  plenty  of  sin  and  misery — often 
patiently  struggled  with,  heroicly  endured,  and  sometimes 


HOLY    ORDERS  439 

overcome, — but  I  did  not  quite  realize  that  it  was  to  the 
well-fed,  well-cared-for  West  End  I  should  turn  for  the 
true  haunt  of  irreclaimable  criminals!  Come — let  us  go  in! 
I  don't  want  to  talk  about  London  any  more." 

"  Will  you  never  preach  there  again  ? "  asked  Douay, 
with  some  curiosity,  as  he  rose  and  walked  by  his  friend's 
side  through  the  garden  into  the  house. 

"  I  think  not.  Not  unless," he  paused "  unless 

my  Orders  make  it  necessary." 

"Your  Orders?" 

Everton  smiled  gravely. 

"  Yes.  You  take  your  orders  from  an  ecclesiastical  su- 
perior, do  you  not?  He  writes  that  you  have  failed  in  your 
mission  here,  and  that  you  must  go  elsewhere  to  succeed.  I 
take  my  orders  from  One  who  sends  me  no  message  but 
that  which  is  breathed  by  a  voice  within  me,  saying:  '  Do 
this  in  remembrance  of  Me ! '  If  I  feel  thus  commanded  to 
speak  to  '  the  world's  metropolis '  I  shall  speak.  Not  other- 
wise." 

They  entered  the  house  then,  and  remained  for  some  time 
together,  deep  in  conversation.  Everton  did  not  relate  the 
story  of  his  meeting  with  Jacynth,  for  he  had  resolved  never 
to  mention  her  again  to  any  one.  And  he  was  too  much 
concerned  for  the  honor  of  the  Church,  to  speak  a  word  of 
the  infamy  attaching  to  the  particular  ruling  member  of  it 
whose  moral  defects  had  created  so  much  alarm  and  anxiety 
among  his  episcopal  brethren — so  that  the  talk  for  the 
most  part  turned  on  Douay's  own  affairs,  and  certain  im- 
mediate necessities  required  by  some  poor  Catholics  of  the 
district  he  was  leaving — poor,  who  would  be  for  a  time  in 
temporary  difficulties  owing  to  the  burning  down  of  Min- 
chin's  brewery,  and  for  whose  care  Everton  undertook  all 
responsibility. 

It  was  quite  late  when  they  at  last  parted.  Little  Lau- 
rence had  gone  to  bed  and  Everton  was  left  alone.  A  small 
pile  of  correspondence  had  accumulated  on  his  table  during 
his  absence,  and  he  prepared  to  attend  to  this, — but  before 
doing  so  he  took  up  by  haphazard  the  evening  paper  which 
had  arrived  some  two  hours  previously.  Glancing  casually 
through  the  various  columns  of  news,  his  eye  was  suddenly 
caught  and  his  attention  riveted  by  a  bold  headline: 


440  HOLY,     ORDERS 

MISSING  AERONAUTS 

GRAVE    ANXIETY 

Slowly,  and  as  if  he  were  spelling  each  word  by  itself,  he 
read  the  indicated  paragraph  which  ran  as  follows: 

"  The  famous  dirigible  balloon  '  Shooting  Star,'  belong- 
ing to  Mr.  Claude  Ferrers,  which  started  from  Hurling- 
ham  for  a  short  trip  yesterday  evening,  having  in  the  car 
its  owner,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Israel  Nordstein,  who,  it 
will  be  remembered,  has  made  several  successful  ascents, 
has  not  yet  returned,  nor  has  it  been  anywhere  heard  of. 
When  last  sighted  the  '  Shooting  Star '  was  sailing  steadily 
in  a  fair  wind  in  a  westerly  direction  towards  the  Welsh 
coast.  Considerable  anxiety  is  felt  for  the  safety  of  the 
passengers." 

The  paper  dropped  from  his  hands.  A  coldness  chilled 
his  blood  as  though  the  breath  of  a  bitter  wind  were  blow- 
ing over  him.  With  a  kind  of  nervous  trembling  in  his 
limbs,  he  went  to  the  open  window  and  looked  out.  It  was 
a  night  of  stars, — a  calm  night  in  which  the  densely-blue 
sky  seemed  powdered  with  worlds  as  though  they  were  gold- 
dust: 

"  How  wonderfully  has  the  day  gone  by ! 
If  only  when  the  stars  come  we  could  die 
And  morning  find  us  gathered  to  our  dreams ' " 

His  lips  murmured  the  lines  unconsciously — he  lifted  his 
eyes  up — up — up  to  the  vast  dark  fathomless  dome  of  space 
— was  it  possible  that  Jacynth  was  there?  Jacynth  with  her 
scorn  of  God — her  mockery  of  good — her  overweening  van- 
ity and  egotism — was  she  lost  up  there? — lost  in  that  illim- 
itable immensity,  where  her  beautiful  person  was  of  no  more 
account  than  a  midge's  wing  in  a  flame  of  fire?  A 
sense  of  tears  was  in  his  throat.  Almost  he  seemed  to 
see  her  face  gleaming  out  of  the  misty  blue, — a  face  ex- 
quisite, provocative,  alluring,  which  blossomed  into  form 
and  color  through  the  darkness  like  a  flower, — and  invol- 


HOLY    ORDERS  '441 

untarily  he  stretched  out  his  hands  as  though  to  invoke  it 
from  the  deepening  shadows  into  the  light. 

"  Oh,  Jacynth !  "  he  half-whispered — "  God  forgive 
you!" 

And  he  thought  he  heard  a  voice  ring  through  the 
silence — a  voice  that  to  his  startled  fancy  had  a  sob  of 
terror  in  its  sweetness  as  it  called:  it 

"Parson  Everton, — good-by!" 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

INTO  the  silent  depths  of  the  air  the  '  Shooting  Star '  had 
soared  swiftly  to  the  height  of  some  two  thousand  feet 
immediately  on  leaving  Hurlingham.  Floating  among  the 
glorious  hues  of  rose  and  violet  and  amber,  flung  against 
the  fleecy  clouds  by  the  rays  of  the  descending  sun,  its  easy 
speed  seemed  to  part  the  atmosphere  as  the  arms  of  a  strong 
swimmer  part  the  waves  of  the  sea, — and  little  by  little  the 
noise  of  London's  traffic  died  away  from  a  restless  lion-like 
roar  to  a  far-off  buzzing  like  the  humming  of  a  hive  of 
bees.  This  sound  in  its  turn  subsided  as  the  balloon  rose 
higher,  till  it  was  no  more  than  a  faint  moan,  like  that  of 
a  creature  in  constant  pain.  Jacynth,  seated  tranquilly  in 
the  wicker  car,  looked  down  as  she  had  looked  down  many 
times  before,  on  the  patterned  scene  below,  which  resembled 
small  squares  of  gray  and  brown  and  green,  brightly  il- 
lumined here  and  there  by  gleams  of  the  sunset,  and  smiled 
dreamily  at  the  littleness  of  the  world  she  was  apparently 
leaving.  Such  a  dwarfish  world! — such  a  poor  piece  of 
patchwork!  What  did  it  matter  whether  one  was  bad  or 
good  in  it,  wise  or  foolish  ?  And  what  a  folly  it  seemed  that 
there  should  actually  be  religious  creeds  in  it,  and  men  like 
Richard  Everton  who  believed  in  God!  So  she  thought, 
laughing  softly  to  herself,  as  she  saw  the  earth  gradually 
recede  from  her  view  like  a  painted  scene  withdrawn  from 
a  stage. 

"  The  slugs  and  snails  in  a  market  garden  might  just  as 
well  build  churches  and  worship  a  god  as  men !  "  she  said, 
inwardly,  with  contempt.  Once  or  twice  she  glanced 
towards  Claude  Ferrers,  but  as  he  was  busy  with  his  steer- 
ing apparatus,  she  did  not  speak.  And  she  continued  to 
watch,  with  a  fascinated  interest  peculiar  to  her  own  tem- 
perament, the  swiftly  diminishing  patches  of  terrestrial  color, 
till  in  a  little  less  than  an  hour,  with  the  on-coming  of  the 
dusk,  they  could  no  more  be  distinctly  discerned,  and  the 
lights  of  London's  hundred-and-fifty  square  miles  alone 

442 


HOLY    ORDERS  443 

defined,  as  with  innumerable  chains  of  tiny  glistening  jewels, 
the  extent  and  plan  of  the  great  Center  of  civilization,  where 
men  and  women,  like  ants  in  an  ant-hill,  run  and  crawl,  each 
in  his  or  her  separate  little  line  of  toil,  and  struggle  per- 
sistently with  one  another  for  the  right  to  live  and  eat  and 
breed  and  die.  No  more  than  this ! — no  more,  if  '  New 
Theologies '  were  all !  But  thank  God  that  we  know  these 
for  what  they  are  and  for  what  they  have  been  foretold: 
'  Marjy  false  prophets  shall  arise  and  shall  deceive  many! ' 
The  fires  of  the  sunset  slowly  paled,  and  the  skies  grew 
pearly  gray  with  flashes  of  the  after-glow  casting  sudden 
luminance  here  and  there  like  frosted  silver  and  topaz  and 
gold  against  glimpses  of  turquoise-blue,  and  still  Jacynth 
peered  over  the  edge  of  the  car,  looking  at  the  wondrous  sea 
of  cloudy  color  and  untroubled  by  any  sense  of  vertigo,  till 
all  at  once,  with  a  sudden  velocity  of  motion,  the  balloon, 
which  had  till  then  traveled  but  slowly,  careered  away  to  the 
westward  and  the  little  illuminated  bird's-eye  view  of  Lon- 
don vanished  completely  from  her  sight.  Then  she  turned 
her  head  and  addressed  her  companion: 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Claude?  " 

He  came  and  sat  beside  her,  taking  her  hand  in  his  own 
and  kissing  it. 

"Where  am  I  going?" — he  said,  in  slow,  caressing  ac- 
cents— "  How  should  I  know!  Why  should  I  know!  Un- 
certainty is  ineffably  delightful! — I  would  not  destroy  its 
charm!  I  go  where  Love  leads  me! — perhaps  to  a  fabled 
paradise  in  an  unexplored  star! — to  a  land  flowing  with 
milk  and  honey — that  bilious  Biblical  mixture!  To  the 
regions  of  the  sun!  To  the  Islands  of  the  Blest!  To  the 
Anywhere  and  the  Everywhere! — so  long  as  I  am  with 
you!" 

She  gave  him  a  quick  glance.  His  face  was  vivid,  and 
his  eyes  were  more  than  usually  protuberant  and  glassy,  but 
he  smiled  with  a  self-conscious  expansiveness.  She  was  ac- 
customed to  his  extravagant  language,  which  he  considered 
poetical  and  which  she  did  not  half  understand, — it  was 
always  more  stilted  and  high-flown  when  he  had  been  drink- 
ing, and  that  he  had  lately  used  '  whisky  as  a  perfume '  was 
evident.  She  did  not,  however,  consider  him  drunk,  and 
she  had  no  fear  of  him,  for  she  knew  by  experience  that 


444  HOLY     ORDERS 

he  was  one  of  those  men  whose  wits,  like  the  wits  of  cer- 
tain actors,  are  more  sharpened  than  dulled  by  strong  liquor. 
She  left  her  hand  in  his,  and  waited  for  a  minute.  Then 
she  said: 

"  You  must  take  me  back  to-night." 

"Why?"  he  demanded,  drawlingly — "To  what  would 
you  return?  To  a  Jew's  embrace!  To  the  kisses  of  Shad- 
rach,  Meshach  and  Abed-nego  in  one  goat-bearded  Israel! 
Ah  no,  enchantress  of  my  soul !  Think  of  it !  A  Jew !  " 

"  A  Jew  who  is  my  husband," — said  Jacynth,  with  a 
demure  smile — "  And  from  whom  you  have  borrowed  a 
good  deal  of  money !  " 

Ferrers  stroked  his  fat  chin  complacently. 

"  Do  I  not  know  it  ?  Is  it  not  the  purpose  for  which 
Jews  are  born? — London  Jews,  at  any  rate — to  lend  money 
at  high  interest  and  sell  wives?  '  Search  the  Scriptures ' 
and  therein  you  will  find  both  professions  most  eloquently 
described,  set  forth  and  approved  by  Jehovah!  As  for  our- 
selves, let  us  go  to  Paris !  " 

She  shook  her  head  decisively. 

"  No — Paris  is  too  far.  I  will  not  cross  the  sea.  Besides, 
I  must  return  home  to-night — I  have  many  engagements  to- 
morrow." 

He  was  silent.  The  balloon  was  traveling  quickly  through 
skies  that  were  rapidly  growing  darker  and  darker.  Clouds 
were  forming  at  a  lower  level  than  the  car,  and  they  thick- 
ened at  times  and  again  dispersed,  showing  glimpses  of 
land  between  their  floating  gray. 

"  Who  was  that  man  to  whom  you  called  good-by  just 
now?"  he  presently  asked — "That  parson " 

She  looked  at  him  amusedly. 

"  A  lover  of  mine !  "  she  answered. 

"Another!  How  many  more,  O  fair  Faustina!  The 
cry  is  '  Still  they  come ! '  But  methinks  this  mendicant  of 
the  Gospel  loves  you  but  little  to  let  you  venture  forth  into 
the  clouds  with  me!" 

She  laughed. 

"  He  does  not  know  he  loves  me," — she  said — "  /  know 
it!  And  one  day  I  shall  tell  him! — I  shall  show  him  the 
secret  of  himself.  Poor  devil !  If  it  were  not  for  his  Chris- 
tian Creed  he  would  worship  me — even  more  than  you  do!  " 


HOLY    ORDERS  445 

"  Christian  Creed !  "  echoed  Ferrers,  derisively — "  He 
works  at  that  for  his  pay,  of  course!  He  doesn't  believe  in 
it!" 

She  broke  into  a  little  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Oh,  but  he. does  believe  in  it!  "  she  exclaimed — "  That's 
the  odd  part  of  it !  He's  quite  sincere  about  it.  He  is  really 
convinced  that  it's  good  and  right  to  deprive  himself  of 
enjoyment  and  make  himself  miserable !  "  And  she  laughed 
again.  "  He  does  believe  in  the  Christian  Creed.  And  in 
God!" 

"  Alas,  benighted  brain !  "  murmured  Ferrers,  drowsily — 
"  Benighted,  empty,  idiot  brain !  Sad,  sad  to  think  that 
there  should  be  any  such  fools  left  in  these  days  of  ours 
when  Man,  glorious  Man,  is  the  supreme  conqueror  of  the 
earth  and  the  heavens! — when  Man,  triumphant  Man,  is  his 
own  maker,  his  own  redeemer,  his  own  instructor,  his  own 
spherical  splendor!  " — here  his  voice  grew  rather  indistinct 
— "  There  is  no  room  for  the  God  of  the  childish  beliefs 
any  more! — M-man!  Noble,  stupendous  M-man! — he  is 
the  only  ruler  of  the  universe " 

"  Not  when  he  has  been  drinking," — said  Jacynth,  sud- 
denly and  sharply — "  as  you  have !  " 

He  turned  his  glassy  eyes  upon  her  with  an  air  of  blandly 
reproachful  astonishment. 

"  Drinking  ?  I  ?  My  dear  lady !  No  more  than  the 
gifted  Persian  who  so  sweetly  sings: 

'  When  I  am  drunk  the  sky  of  life  is  clear, 
And  I  gaze  into  it  without  a  fear; 
As  I  grow  sober,  horribly  I  dread 
The  shadows  of  my  vultures  drawing  near.' 

'  The  shadows  of  my  vultures ! '  There  they  are !  See !  " 
He  pointed  to  a  wreath  of  fluffy  gray  clouds  which, 
flitting  lightly  below  the  balloon,  drifted  now  and  again  into 
weird  shapes  like  cloven  wings  that  rose  upright  and  caught 
fugitive  gleams  of  color  on  their  plumy  points,  and  anon, 
swooping  downwards  looked  liked  huge  birds  of  prey. 

"  My  vultures — my  vultures !  "  he  hummed  as  though  the 
words  were  a  tune — "  My  '  shafts  of  love  or  arrows  of 
death.  Or  the  little  snakes  that  eat  my  heart ! '  And  so, 


446  HOLY     ORDERS 

dear  lady,  you  would  fain  return  to  your  useful  Jew!  You 
will  not  soar  with  a  poet  to  Paradise !  Ah,  women,  women ! 
Give  them  wings  and  they  straightway  desire  to  crawl! 
Let  us  see  where  we  are !  " 

He  rose  to  make  his  observations  with  the  aid  of  the 
various  scientific  instruments  with  which  the  balloon  was 
provided,  and  she  watched  him  closely,  relieved  to  think 
that  he  was  about  to  prepare  for  their  descent. 

"  We  are  at  an  altitude  of  four  thousand  feet," — he 
presently  announced — "  And  if  almanacs  be  correct  we  ought 
to  see  a  wonderful  moonrise.  But  you  prefer  your  Jew 
to  the  moon !  " 

"  I  prefer  to  return  home  just  now,  certainly," — she  said ; 
"  Do  be  sensible,  Claude !  Steer  for  London." 

He  did  not  answer  her  at  once.  The»  clouds  that  he 
had  called  his  vultures  suddenly  cleared  away,  and  the 
balloon  soared  steadily  through  a  dark  expanse  of  dense  blue, 
passing  swiftly  over  tracts  of  open  country,  invisible  except 
where  a  town  or  a  village,  with  its  lighted  streets  and 
houses,  glittered  briefly  like  a  tiny  speck  of  flame  on  the 
smooth  haze  of  distance.  Jacynth  grew  restless.  She  was 
not  nervous, — her  exceptional  vanity  saved  her  from  that, 
for  she  could  not  imagine  anything  disastrous  occurring  to 
so  beautiful  and  desirable  a  person  as  herself, — but  she 
wished  she  knew  how  to  steer  the  balloon  with  her  own 
hands  in  case  of  an  emergency.  Moved  by  this  idea  she 
turned  towards  her  companion,  who  was  fumbling  with 
the  ropes  and  cords  and  appliances  of  which  he  boasted  that 
he  alone  knew  the  secret  action,  and  said: 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?    Can  I  help  you  ?  " 

He  lifted  his  head  and  smiled  at  her.  In  the  deepen- 
ing darkness  his  white  flabby  face  looked  like  a  clay  mask 
molded  into  the  expression  of  a  fabulous  demon. 

"Shall  the  lily  support  the  oak?"  he  queried,  grandilo- 
quently— "  Or  the  dove  lend  her  wings  to  the  eagle?  Which 
simple  metaphors  mean,  my  dear  lady,  that  you  cannot  help 
me!  Nor  for  the  moment  can  I  help  myself!  We  have 
drifted  into  a  strong  stream  of  air — a  cross  current  difficult 
to  navigate — and  I  fear  that  my  lovely  enchantress  will 
perhaps  have  to  pass  the  night,  not  with  her  gentle  Jew, 
but  at  some  inadequate  hotel  in  Holyhead  or  Dublin!  " 


HOLY    ORDERS  447 

Jacynth  moved  from  her  seat,  her  fair  brows  clouding 
with  vexation. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  thought  you  could  steer  any- 
where, even  in  the  strongest  wind !  " 

His  smile  became  more  fixedly  bland. 

"  So  I  can — on  most  occasions," — he  replied — "  But  there 
are  exceptions  to  every  rule — and  to-night — is  one  of  those 
exceptions!  But  be  not  discouraged,  dear  lady!  All  is 
well!  We  are,  or  have  been,  traveling  across  the  Cots- 
wolds " 

She  uttered  a  little  involuntary  cry. 

"The  Cotswolds!" 

"  I  think  so!     I  imagine  so!    Take  care!  " 

For  she  suddenly  leaned  her  head  over  the  edge  of  the 
car  and  peered  down  into  the  dark  dome  of  space. 

"I  can  see  nothing!"  she  said,  petulantly,  drawing  back 
her  head  quickly, — "  It  is  all  whirling  darkness!  " 

"Even  so!  Mere  Chaos!"  replied  Ferrers,  placidly — 
"  The  land  is  there — but  to  us  it  might  as  well  not  be  there, 
for  W€  see  nothing  of  it!  Even  so  is  the  earth  to  higher 
worlds!  A  speck — a  blur!  We  make  too  much  of  it! 
What  of  the  Cotswolds  ?  Did  my  Magic  Crystal  ever  shine 
upon  them  ?  " 

"  I  was  there — once !  " — she  answered,  slowly — "  and  the 
man  who  came  with  me  to  Hurlingham  to-day — he  is  vicar 
of  a  parish  there." 

Ferrers  gave  an  airy  gesture  of  contempt. 

"  Vicar  of  a  parish!  Oh,  narrow  boundary  for  the  brain 
of  man!  A  country  parish!  A  community  of  yokels  and 
ugly  rustic  wenches !  " 

She  laughed — a  little  low  laugh  of  amusement. 

"  True !  There  is  no  danger  for  his  peace  of  mind !  He 
would  never  see  a  face  among  those  '  rustic  wenches  '  that 
might  possibly  haunt  his  memory !  " 

She  was  silent  then  for  a  little.    Presently  she  asked : 

"What  time  is  it?" 

He  was  a  minute  or  two  before  replying.     Then  he  said : 

"  Nine  o'clock." 

"  We  have  been  up  an  hour  and  a  half  then.  Make  for 
London  now." 

He  came  and  put  an  arm  about  her. 


448  HOLY     ORDERS 

"  Enchantress,  have  I  not  already  told  you  I  cannot  make 
for  London?  Things  are  against  me."  Here  he  was 
troubled  by  a  violent  hiccough,  and  the  whisky  odors  of  his 
person  immediately  created  a  private  atmosphere  for  his  own 
special  environment.  She  turned  her  head  from  him  in  dis- 
gust and  pushed  his  arm  away.  "  You  are  a-angry  with 
me," — he  went  on — "  A-angry  with  your  p-poor  poet !  I 
c-cannot  help  it!  We  will  d-descend  now  if  you  like — 
w-wherever  you  please !  " 

She  stood  up  in  the  car.  Her  heart  was  beating  a  little 
quickly,  but  she  was  not  afraid. 

"  Where  are  we?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Dear  lady,  I  cannot  tell  you  the  exact  locality !  I  know 
not  whether  below  us  lies  a  town  or  a  village,  or  the  parish 
where  your  friend  the  parson  preaches  to  his  bumpkin  con- 
gregation! We  may  be  soaring  over  mountains  or  over 
lowlands — in  this  glorious  immensity  it  matters  little!  But 
in  any  case,  if  compasses  are  accurate,  we  are  traveling 
towards  the  coast." 

"  Towards  the  coast ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  accents  of  an- 
noyance rather  than  alarm — "  What  coast?  " 

"  Naturally,  the  Welsh  coast,  my  angel !  Did  I  not 
mention  a  possible  hotel  at  Holyhead?  Or — if  we  cross  the 
sea — in  Dublin?  One  moment! — I  will  kindle  a  flare." 

He  was  so  long  about  this  business  and  did  it  at  last  with 
such  uncertain  hands,  that  she  grew  cold  with  a  sudden 
access  of  '  nerves.'  A  horrid  dread  came  over  her  lest  by 
some  careless  movement  he  should  set  fire  to  the  balloon. 
Apparently,  however,  he  had  lost  nothing  of  his  physical 
self-control,  and  the  flare  was  successfully  lowered,  creating 
such  a. marvelous  effect  as  it  burned  away  in  the  dark  dome 
of  night,  that  though  she  had  seen  the  same  thing  often 
before,  she  was  more  than  usually  thrilled  by  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  spectacle.  The  great  globe  of  the  balloon 
appeared  to  shine  with  an  unearthly  splendor  and  to  cover 
nearly  half  the  heavens,  while  all  around  it  the  violet-black 
of  the  sky  was  strewn  with  glimmering  stars.  The  shadow 
of  the  car,  and  the  ropes  by  which  it  was  suspended  were 
drawn,  as  with  an  inky  pencil,  against  the  panels  of  the  bal- 
loon, and  Jacynth  gazed  upwards,  fascinated  by  the  weird 
brilliancy  of  the  scene  till  the  flare  had  burnt  out  and  the 
darkness  seemed  to  grow  darker  by  contrast. 


HOLY    ORDERS  449 

"  That  was  beautiful !  "  she  said — "  And  now,  do  you 
know  where  you  are  going  to  descend  ?  " 

He  held  up  his  hand. 

"Listen!" 

A  faint  murmuring  sound  floated  through  the  air  like  a 
choir  of  small  voices  singing  very  softly.  It  rose  and  fell 
— then  seemed  to  cease  altogether,  and  anon  to  begin  again. 

"  Is  it  a  town  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  smiled   strangely. 

"No.    It  is  the  sea!" 

"The  sea!" 

He  drew  her  arm  within  his  own  and  pointed  ahead. 
There  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  and  the  stars  seemed  to  be 
growing  up  in  clusters  all  through  the  infinite  space,  like 
summer  blossoms  in  a  field.  But  below  the  car  a  long 
dark  stretch  of  apparent  haze  could  be  discerned,  marked  by 
parallel  dots  of  light  running  divergently  till  they  were  lost 
in  distance,  while  other  infinitesimal  sparks  of  luminance 
were  scattered  about  like  the  droppings  of  a  spent  firework. 

"The  lights  of  ships!"  murmured  Ferrers,  sleepily — 
"  The  signs  of  Man's  mastery  of  the  ocean !  '  Roll  on, 
thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean,  roll ! '  Dear  lady,  you 
should  read  Byron!  He  would  amuse  you!  A  sadly  igno- 
rant versifier,  yet  with  flashes — occasional  flashes  of  intelli- 
gence !  But  his  errors  are  obvious.  '  Man  marks  the  earth 
with  ruin;  his  control  stops  with  the  shore.'  That  is 
wrong,  of  course.  Man's  control  does  not  stop  with  the 
shore, — on  the  contrary,  it  extends  indefinitely.  The  lights 
of  ships, — the  lights  of  floating  buoys! — and,  if  I  mistake 
not,  the  lights  of  the  Admiralty  pier  at  Holyhead.  Shall  we 
descend?" 

She  gave  an  eager  gesture  of  assent.  He  held  her  arm 
more  closely,  and  stooping  over  her  looked  amorously  into 
her  eyes. 

"  Or  shall  we  cross  to  the  Emerald  Isle?  "  he  murmured. 
"The  land  of  romance  and  poverty  and  Celtic  Leagues! — 
the  land  of  the  Dark  Rosaleen! 

'I  could  scale  the  blue  air, 
I  could  plow  the  high  hills, 
Oh,  I  could  kneel  all  night  in  prayer 
To  heal  your  many  ills! 


450  HOLY     ORDERS 

And  one  beamy  smile  from  you 

Would  float  like  light  between 
My  toil  arid  me,  my  own,  my  true, 

My  Dark  Rosaleen! 

My  fond  Rosaleen ! 
Would  give  me  life  and  soul  anew, 
A  second  life,  a  soul  anew, 

My  Dark  Rosaleen ! ' 

"  Ah !  " — and  he  drew  a  long  breath — "  That  is  poetry ! 
And  you,  you  beautiful  enchantress,  are  the  Dark  Rosaleen 
incarnate !  " 

He  kissed  her.  A  tremor  ran  through  her  blood,  half  of 
pleasure,  half  of  fear.  There  was  something  enthralling  in 
this  strange  love-making  in  the  air,  and  for  the  moment  she 
yielded  to  the  animal  power  which  Claude  Ferrers  possessed 
over  women, — a  magnetic  force  which  he  boasted  of  having 
practiced  as  an  art.  The  distant  singing  sound  of  the  sea 
had  changed  within  the  last  few  minutes  to  a  loud  sighing 
moan, — and  presently  there  was  a  curious  noise  as  of  creak- 
ing and  straining  cordage.  This  was  repeated  several  times ; 
it  did  not  come  from  the  balloon,  which  was  careering 
onward  with  remarkable  swiftness  and  steadiness,  but  from 
some  contending  force  in  the  currents  of  the  air.  Ferrers 
heard  it,  and  an  expression  of  something  like  alarm  flitted 
over  his  flabby  features.  Releasing  Jacynth  from  his  hold, 
he  went  to  the  other  side  of  the  car. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  laughed,  somewhat  forcedly. 

"The  best  I  can,  dear  lady!"  he  answered — "A  strong 
wind  is  rising,  and  we  are  nearing  the  coast.  Sit  quite  still 
where  you  are.  There  is  no  danger.  I  am  going  to  light  a 
couple  of  flares  that  will  show,  us  to  the  people  below." 

Two  or  three  moments  passed,  and  then  the  glare  of 
colored  fires,  blue  and  crimson,  blazed  in  the  sky,  and  once 
again,  like  a  mysterious  floating  world  of  light,  the  '  Shoot- 
ing Star '  glowed  with  translucent  brilliancy  in  the  thicken- 
ing air.  No  answering  signal  came  from  earth; — three 
or  four  times  Ferrers  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the  car  and 
shouted,  but  there  was  no  response.  Profound  silence 
reigned,  except  for  the  gradually  deepening  murmur  of  waters 
in  perpetual  commotion,  and  the  increasing  rush  of  the  wind. 


HOLY    ORDERS  451 

The  balloon  was  traveling  at  great  speed,  and  Jacynth 
almost  held  her  breath,  waiting  for  the  next  word  Ferrers 
should  utter.  She  hoped  and  she  believed  that  he  was 
steering  their  aerial  car  in  a  landward  direction  and  that  a 
descent  would  soon  be  made.  She  knew  that  he  was  an  ex- 
perienced aeronaut,  acquainted  with  all  the  possibilities  of 
his  own  '  dirigible  '  apparatus,  and  he  had  taught  her  to 
consider  that  there  was  no  more  danger  in  a  balloon  than 
in  a  motor-car,  probably  not  so  much.  She  had  made  dozens 
of  successful  voyages  in  the  '  Shooting  Star ' ;  she  called  it 
her  sky-yacht,  and  was  wont  to  believe  it  as  safe  as  any 
yacht  that  ever  sailed  the  seas, — yet  to-night  there  was  a 
cold  sense  of  dread  upon  her, — she  wished  she  had  never 
come.  She  could  not  control  the  restlessness  of  her  thoughts ; 
they  jum/ed  from  one  thing  to  another  with  provoking 
rapidity,  and  yet  somehow  they  all  centered  round  Shad- 
brook, — Shadbrook  continually.  What  were  the  people 
doing  in  that  stupid  village?  Most  of  them  went  to  bed  at 
ten.  It  was  not  ten  yet ;  it  soon  would  be.  Then  the  lights 
would  be  put  out  in  every  little  cottage,  and  the  only  bright 
spots  in  the  small  dull  street  would  be  the  two  public- 
houses.  They  would  not  close  till  eleven.  The  wives  and 
children  would  be  all  in  bed,  while  the  husbands,  with 
women  who  were  not  their  wives,  would  be  tossing  down 
glass  after  glass  of  raw  spirit,  and  singing  and  dancing  and 
shouting — yes! — that  was  the  way  Dan  and  she  had  begun! 
Dan!  To  think  of  him  now  seemed  strange, — now,  when 
she  was  a  rich  woman  of  fashion  with  no  end  of  lovers  to 
pick  and  choose  from 

Here  she  shook  herself  out  of  her  meditations  impatiently. 
What  was  Claude  Ferrers  about?  She  watched  him  with 
ill-concealed  impatience.  He  had  turned  on  the  switch  of 
his  electric  lamp  and  appeared  to  be  studying  a  chart. 
Presently  she  saw  him  take  a  large  silver  flask  from  his 
pocket  .and  put  it  to  his  mouth.  A  sudden  sick  terror  seized 
her. 

"Claude!"  she  exclaimed,— "  Claude !" 

He  was  too  busy  with  the  flask  to  answer  her  at  once. 
It  seemed  glued  to  his  lips,  and  he  drank  and  drank  till 
he  had  drained  it. 

"  Claude !  "  she  cried  again. 


452  HOLY     ORDERS 

He  peered  round  at  her  with  a  fatuous  smile. 

"  '  How  silver  sweet  sound  lovers'  tongues  by  night! '  "  he 
said — "  '  Like  softest  music  to  attending  ears ! '  Well,  my 
Magic  Crystal!  What  would  you  have  with  me?" 

Tears  of  vexation  started  to  her  eyes.  She  saw  that  it 
would  now  be  difficult  either  to  argue  with,  or  persuade  him. 
She  caught  up  her  cloak  of  sables  and  gathered  it  about 
her  shiveringly.  Then  she  moved  round  to  him. 

"  Are  you  descending?  "  she  asked. 

"Into  the  sea?"  he  rejoined — "No,  dear  lady!  I  am 
not  .so  unwise!  We  are  too  close  to  the  coast  for  a  safe 
descent." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  then  ?  " 

Her  voice  quivered  as  she  spoke,  and  his  glassy  blue  eyes 
turned  round  upon  her  in  questioning  wonder. 

"You  are  crying?"  he  said — "You  are  crying  like  a 
child!  What  for?" 

"  I  am  cold," — she  answered,  with  a  little  sob — "  And 
tired.  And  you  worry  me." 

"  I  ?     I  worry  you  ?     My  angel !  " 

He  made  an  amorous  grab  at  her  cloak — she  drew  it 
away  from  him. 

"  You  know  I  only  meant  to  come  up  with  you  for  two  or 
three  hours,"  she  said — "  I  wanted  to  be  at  home  by  eleven 
at  the  latest.  You  have  taken  me  much  further  than  you 
ought.  And  I  don't  believe  you  know  where  you  are." 

"  I  do — I  do  know  where  I  am !  "  he  declared,  with  some 
excitement — "Why  should  you  think  I  do  not?" 

She  flashed  a  contemptuous  glance  at  him. 

"  You  have  been  drinking  again !  " 

He  laughed  foolishly. 

"  Drinking  ?  No !  I  have  simply  fortified  myself  for 
emergencies!  The  merest  drop! — and  I  needed  it,  dear 
lady !  I  want  all  my  nerve !  " 

The  angry  tears  still  glittered  in  her  eyes. 

"  Your  nerve !  "  she  echoed,  scornfully. 

"Yes!  My  nerve!"  he  repeated,  and  he  rose  from  the 
seat  where  he  had  been  studying  the  chart,  and  stood  up 
unsteadily.  "  My  nerve  must  carry  us  across  the  sea!  " 

She  uttered  a  sharp  cry. 

"  No,  no !    Not  across  the  sea !  " 


HOLY    ORDERS  453 

At  that  moment  a  white  mystical  glory  flooded  the 
•heavens.  In  all  directions, — at  about  the  same  level  as  that 
in  which  the  balloon  was  floating, — there  arose  masses  of 
fleecy  clouds  like  Alpine  snow-peaks,  and  out  of  these  sprang 
the  moon,  round  and  bright  as  a  silver  shield.  The  sudden 
effect  was  weird,  startling  and  unspeakably  magnificent,  but 
Jacynth  had  no  eyes  for  it.  Her  gaze  was  turned  below, 
where  now,  plainly  discernible,  was  the  sea,  troubled  by 
some  threat  of  storm,  for  the  opaline  gleams  of  the  moon 
could  be  seen  sparkling  on  the  crests  of  rising  and  fall- 
ing waves.  For  a  moment  she  was  dumb  with  terror, — 
the  next  she  quickly  controlled  herself  and  turned  to  Fer- 
rers. 

"  What  now  ?  "  she  asked,  low  and  breathlessly. 

He  did  not  answer.  He  was  throwing  out  ballast  in 
reckless  haste.  In  obedience  to  his  action  the  balloon  soared 
rapidly  higher  and  higher  till  it  seemed  to  wander  like  a 
will-o'-the-wisp  among  the  shining  masses  of  moonlit  clouds 
which  now  rose  in  the  sky  like  mountains  from  a  plain,  with 
summits  of  dazzling  whiteness,  shadowing  into  vast  ravines 
and  valleys,  among  which  the  '  Shooting  Star '  appeared  to 
glide  swiftly,  till  rising  far  above  them,  it  floated  over  what 
seemed  like  a  double  sea.  Jacynth,  faint  and  giddy  with 
fear,  sat  down  crouchingly,  covering  her  eyes.  She  dared 
not  move  nor  speak.  Ferrers  had  also  seated  himself,  and 
his  hand  was  on  the  mechanical  contrivance  he  had  designed 
for  steering,  and  on  the  faith  of  which  he  had  proudly  an- 
nounced himself  to  the  world  as  a  '  conqueror  of  the  air.' 
Presently  he  looked  up  and  said,  in  quiet  tones: 

"Darling!     There  is  no  danger!" 

She  was  silent.  She  was  too  angry  with  him  to  reply.  She 
felt  herself  outraged  by  the  extent  of  this  voyage  in  the  air, 
and  its  threatening  peril — peril  which  surely,  if  he  had  kept 
all  his  senses  about  him,  he  could  have  averted. 

"  When  we  get  back  to  town  to-morrow,"  she  thought, — 
"  I  will  tell  him  just  what  I  think  of  him !  That  he  is  a 
drunkard — unfit  to  be  trusted " 

On  this  her  mind  appeared  to  pause.  '  A  drunkard — 
unfit  to  be  trusted.'  That  was  the  character  of  Dan  Kier- 
nan,  her  first  lover.  Then  was  Claude  Ferrers,  the  poet, 
the  voluptuary,  the  *  soul  *  of  a  decadent  society,  the  '  gen- 


454  HOLY     ORDERS 

tleman  '  of  education  and  position,  on  the  same  level  of 
weak  incapability  as  the  rustic  boor?  Shuddering,  she  drew 
herself  more  closely  into  the  soft  folds  of  her  sables.  She 
still  kept  her  eyes  covered.  For  it  frightened  her  to  look 
at  the  gigantic  moving  scenery  of  the  clouds — at  the  moon 
that  seemed  so  near  and  large  and  terrible.  All  she  longed 
for  now  was  the  safe  descent  of  the  balloon  in  some  accessible 
spot;  and  the  only  way  to  this  desirable  end  was,  she  felt, 
to  leave  Ferrers  to  himself  and  his  own  independent  action. 
For,  after  all,  he  was  no  more  anxious  to  lose  his  life  than 
she  was;  and  he  had  said  there  was  no  danger. 

So  she  sat  still  and  waited.  The  minutes  passed  slowly 
till  nearly  another  hour  had  ebbed  away.  Throbbing  pains 
in  her  head  began  to  trouble  her,  and  every  now  and  then 
she  felt  as  if  she  could  scarcely  breathe.  Her  heart  beat 
violently;  its  pulsations  were  distinctly  audible. 

"  We  must  be  traveling  at  an  immense  height!" — she 
thought,  suddenly — "  There  is  no  sound  now — not  even  the 
murmur  of  the  sea!" 

She  uncovered  her  eyes  and  looked  at  Ferrers.  He  was 
sitting  quite  motionless — his  hand  on  his  steering  appliance 
as  before.  The  electric  lamp  was  burning,  and  shone  brightly 
above  the  open  chart,  while  all  around  the  balloon  the 
clouds  were  grouping  in  massive  and  wonderful  forms.  Some 
of  them  were  like  huge  trees  growing  up  from  a  flat  swamp 
of  white  mist,  their  tops  inky  black  against  the  starry  sky. 
The  force  of  the  wind  constantly  blew  these  asunder  and 
changed  them  into  the  semblance  of  deep  dark  lakes  sur- 
rounded by  frosted  hills,  so  that  the  effect  ~was  as  though 
great  forests  should  be  at  one  moment  standing  upright  and 
at  another  bent  down  and  broken  into  chaotic  masses.  This 
cloud  confusion  was  inexpressibly  frightful  in  its  grandeur, 
— appalling  for  human  eyes  to  contemplate, — and  Jacynth's 
brain  whirled  with  the  whirling  lights  and  shadows  till 
she  began  to  feel  uncertain  of  her  own  existence,  and 
such  a  sense  of  suffocation  overcame  her  that  she  almost 
tainted. 

"Claude!  Claude! "  she  cried,  gaspingly — "I  cannot 
stand  this!  Claude!" 

He  made  no  answer.  Sitting  rigidly  under  the  electric 
lamp,  with  the  open  chart  before  him,  his  hand  was  on 


HOLY    ORDERS  455 

his  steering  apparatus  in  precisely  its  former  position.  She 
leaned  towards  him — surely  he  looked  strange!  A  ,sudden 
horror  gripped  her  nerves. 

"  Claude !  "  she  cried  again, 

Then  she  sprang  up  trembling  violently — she  felt  sick 
and  giddy — her  throat  and  lips  went  suddenly  dry.  Slowly, 
and  with  shaking  limbs,  she  crept  inch  by  inch  from  her 
own  place  in  the  car  to  where  Ferrers  sat — and  stretching 
out  her  hand  she  touched  him.  He  gave  no  response.  Drag- 
ging herself  still  closer  she  peered  with  an  awful  inquiry 
into  his  face  on  which  the  moon  shed  a  cold  white  glare. 
Then  she  screamed — a  loud  wild  scream  of  delirious 
frenzy. 

"  Claude !  Claude !  Don't  play  tricks  with  me ! — don't 
frighten  me!  You  are  not  dead!  No — no!  Wake! — wake! 
— wake!  It's  the  drink  that  makes  you  sleep  like  this! — 
the  drink! — you  should  never  have  touched  it! — Claude — 
rouse  yourself ! — wake !  " 

And  in  the  extremity  of  her  terror  she  clutched  at  his 
coat  and  shook  his  inert  figure; — whereat  it  slowly  toppled 
over  and  lurched  heavily  to  one  side  as  she  sprang  back  from 
it,  the  upper  part  of  the  body  falling  into  a  reclining  pos- 
ture against  the  edge  of  the  car  and  remaining  so  with  its 
head  partially  upturned  to  the  sky. 

And  then  she  realized  the  horrible  truth.  That  he  was 
dead!  Quite  dead.  She  stared  at  that  ghastly  face,  with 
its  wide  sensual  mouth  half  open,  and  its  glassy  eyes  frozen 
on  vacancy,  and  recoiling,  leaned  against  the  ropes  of  the 
car,  trying  to  steady  the  wild  throbbing  of  her  pulses.  How 
had  he  died  so  suddenly  and  without  sound?  She  could  not 
tell.  Heart-failure  might  have  been  the  cause, — heart-failure, 
due  perhaps  to  the  high  altitude  of  the  balloon  and  the 
drink  he  had  taken  to  ensure  his  '  nerve.'  Anyway,  he  was 
dead.  Quite  dead! 

All  at  once  she  found  herself  laughing  hysterically  at  this. 
Claude  Ferrers — the  '  conqueror  of  the  air ' — the  writer  of 
many  books  ingeniously  composed  with  the  object  of  prov- 
ing the  supremacy  of  Man  and  the  nothingness  of  God — 
was  dead!  From  the  way  in  which  he  had  talked  to  his 
society  friends,  it  seemed  as  if  he  thought  he  would  never 
die.  And  yet  even  he, — the  darling  of  literary  cliques, — 


456  HOLY     ORDERS 

the  voluptuary  of  idle  women's  boudoirs, — was  there  before 
her,  a  helpless  lump,  deprived  of  sense  and  motion  and  of 
no  further  use  in  the  world, — only  fit  to  be  burned  or  buried 
out  of  sight  and  out  of  mind!  Her  breath  came  in  short 
quick  gasps — she  pressed  her  hands  against  her  heart  in  a 
futile  effort  to  still  its  rapid  beatings, — and  then,  like  a 
lightning  flash  tearing  open  the  heavens,  another  frightful 
realization  broke  in  upon  her  brain — the  hideous  maddening 
realization  .that  now  Ferrers  was  dead,  she  was  alone! 
Alone,  all  alone  with  the  elements! — alone  in  a  mere  toy- 
vessel  of  the  sky,  without  any  knowledge  of  how  to  guide 
it  or  control  it, — alone — alone! — adrift  in  the  immense 
heavens,  and  beneath  her  the  sea!  A  despairing  cry  broke 
from  her  lips, — a  cry  which,  among  the  vast  spaces  where 
she  floated,  was  no  more  than  the  cry  of  a  weak  wild  bird 
in  a  storm, — her  limbs  sank  under  her,  and  she  crouched 
down  on  the  floor  of  the  car,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands. 
She  could  not  look  any  more  on  the  waxen-livid  features 
of  the  corpse  that  was  now  her  sole  companion — or  on  the 
thickening  procession  of  monster  clouds  which,  gathering 
closely  round  the  balloon,  moved  above  and  below  it  in  a 
sort  of  solemn  moonlit  pageantry,  like  Titanesque  shapes  of 
warriors  arrayed  in  order  for  battle, — and  shivering  with 
the  deathly  cold  of  utmost  fear,  she  shrouded  herself  in  the 
folds  of  her  sable  cloak  and  tried  to  collect  her  scattered 
forces — to  think — to  reason  out  her  awful  position.  Her 
breathing  had  gradually  become  easier — there  was  a  sense 
of  dampness  in  the  air,  and  she  suddenly  remembered  how 
she  had  been  told  that  if  a  balloon  passed  through  any  wet 
fog,  the  moisture  would  help  to  bring  it  to  a  lower  level. 
This  was  what  indeed  had  happened;  but  she  had  not  just 
then  the  strength  or  the  courage  to  get  up  and  read  the 
aneroid,  which  would  have  shown  her  that  the  balloon, 
from  having  been  at  a  height  of  nearly  twelve  thousand  feet, 
had  gradually  dropped  to  about  six  thousand  and  was  still 
slowly  but  slightly  sinking.  The  clouds  were  thick  below 
the  car — yet  now  and  then  they  drifted  asunder,  showing 
glimpses  of  the  sea  between,  dark  gray  in  the  moonbeams 
and  covered  with  almost  microscopic  waves,  which  had  the 
appearance  of  being  frozen  like  the  ridges  of  a  glacier.  But 
she  saw  nothing  and  almost  felt  nothing;  the  paralyzing 


HOLY    ORDERS  457 

terror  of  her  situation  had  deprived  her  of  all  sense  save 
the  bare  consciousness  of  life  and  the  dread  of  death. 

Huddling  under  her  cloak  she  began  dreamily  to  wonder 
what  death  was  like.  Dan  Kiernan  was  dead.  She  had 
crushed  the  life  out  of  him  under  the  wheels  of  her  motor- 
car. It  was  an  accident, — and  as  she  had  told  Parson  Ever- 
ton  a  few  hours  ago — '  motor-cars  run  over  and  kill  so  many 
people  that  one  ceases  to  think  about  it.  It's  part  of  the 
fun.'  Part  of  the  fun!  Yes, — and  Dan  Kiernan's  death 
was  part  of  her  usual  '  luck.'  She  had  looked  at  him  as  he 
lay  mangled  in  the  dust,  without  one  throb  of  pity  for  his 
end.  He  had  a  horrible  dead  face! — horrible  dead  eyes! — 
she  could  see  them  still.  And  now  Claude  Ferrers  was  dead 
— and  death  had  made  him  almost  as  hideous  as  Dan  Kier- 
nan. Would  she,  when  she  was  dead,  look  hideous?  Would 
her  beauty — that  ravishing,  exquisite  beauty  which  drew  all 
men  to  worship  it — be  disfigured  and  destroyed?  At  the 
very  thought  she  began  to  weep, — and  a  storm  of  hysterical 
sobbing  shook  her  frame.  This,  and  this  alone,  was  what 
death  meant  to  her, — the  loss  of  beauty.  She  sobbed  and 
sobbed  till  she  was  absolutely  exhausted, — a  weak  numbness 
stole  over  her  limbs,  and  at  last,  like  a  querulous  child  worn 
out  by  peevish  crying,  she  sank  into  a  deep  sleep. 

For  the  next  two  consecutive  hours  the  balloon  wandered 
on  its  unguided  way,  bearing  its  strange  freight  of  the  dead 
and  the  living  together  through  the  clouds.  By  midnight 
the  moon  had  disappeared  behind1  a  mountainous  mass  of 
thick  black  vapors,  and  the  heavens  were  rather  darkening 
than  lightening  towards  the  first  hour  of  the  day.  Creeping 
mists  arose  from  a  low-lying  coast  washed  by  the  sea,  and 
the  '  Shooting  Star '  falling  somewhat  rapidly  downwards, 
hovered  above  the  little  hills  and  plains  of  a  land  which 
was  scarcely  discernible  in  the  gathering  gloom.  A  stormy 
wind  began  to  blow,  and  the  balloon  traveled  with  incredi- 
ble swiftness,  always  at  a  lower  and  lower  level,  till  all  at 
once,  with  a  violent  crashing  and  cracking  sound,  the  trail 
rope  caught  in  the  tops  of  some  tall  trees,  and  the  car  jerked 
against  the  boughs. 

The  shock  woke  Jacynth  from  her  stupor  #nd  sleep  .  of 
misery;  she  sprang  up  hardly  knowing  where  she  was,  and 
only  hearing  the  noise  of  the  collision.  All  was  dark  around 


458  HOLY     ORDERS 

her;  she  was  unable  to  help  herself  in  any  way, — and 
scarcely  had  she  realized  the  position  of  the  balloon,  when 
with  another  terrific  jolt  it  tore  away  from  the  trees, 
swaying  the  car  on  one  side  in  such  a  manner  that  the  body 
of  Claude  Ferrers  slipped  over  the  edge  and  fell  like  a 
leaden  weight  to  earth.  Released  of  this  heavy  load,  the 
balloon  rose  with  sudden  and  frightful  rapidity,  and  tore 
away  at  a  mad  speed,  racing  with  wind  and  cloud  in  the 
darkness,  and  Jacynth  stood  alone  in  the  car,  with  hair 
blown  back  and  wild  eyes  staring  into  the  gloom  of  nothing, 
— the  nothing  of  life, — the  nothing  of  death — and — dared 
she  say — the  nothing  of  God  ?  She  had  slept, — and  the  sleep 
had  steadied  her  brain;  she  knew  now  exactly  what  had 
happened  and  that  there  was  no  hope.  She  knew  that  she 
had,  as  it  were,  almost  touched  earth — the  blessed  earth  so 
unvalued  by  the  majority  of  those  that  tread  upon  it — and 
that  if  any  aeronaut  had  been  with  her,  it  was  possible  she 
might  have  been  saved.  But  it  was  now  too  late.  Too 
late!  She  also  knew,  albeit  vaguely,  that  the  loss  of  weight 
occasioned  by  the  fall  of  Claude  Ferrers'  dead  body  from  the 
car  must  increase  her  danger  a  thousand-fold,  and  that  any 
strong  or  continued  disturbance  of  the  air  would  make 
short  work  of  the  balloon's  now  risky  equilibrium.  Yet, 
knowing  all,  she  could  not  actually  believe  it  likely  that  she 
would  meet  with  her  own  end.  That  was  too  impossible 
for  her  imagining.  '  Luck '  had  always  favored  her ;  she 
had  said  of  herself : — "  My  badness,  if  it  is  badness,  has 
brought  me  nothing  but  luck."  Nothing  but  luck!  Luck 
would  be  on  her  side  again, — of  that,  even  lost  as  she  was 
in  the  immensities  of  space,  she  felt  sure! 

When  once  this  idea  impressed  itself  on  her  mind,  a  rush 
of  strength  and  courage  came  to  her.  She  was  faint  and 
hungry,  and  by  the  light  of  the  electric  lamp,  which,  de- 
spite all  shocks  and  difficulties,  was  still  steadily  burning, 
she  sought  among  the  various  things  with  which  the  car 
was  provided  and  came  upon  a  leather  pouch,  containing 
some  biscuits  and  a  flask  of  brandy.  She  ate  and  drank 
greedily — the  raw  fiery  liquor  which  she  swallowed  as 
though  it  were  water,  sent  a  thrill  of  pleasure  through  her 
veins,  and  it  was  only  the  thought  of  Claude  Ferrers  and 
his  sudden  silent  death  that  made  her  all  at  once  stop 


HOLY    ORDERS  459 

drinking  and  put  the  flask  away  with  a  shudder.  But  the 
nourishment,  false  and  only  temporary  as  it  was,  gave  her 
a  brief  access  of  boldness  amounting  to  bravado; — she  took 
a  firm  stand  in  the  middle  of  the  car,  and  with  her  right 
hand  resting  lightly  on  one  of  the  suspension  ropes  to  steady 
herself,  she  faced  the  night  like  a  steersman  at  the  wheel 
of  a  ship  plowing  through  dark  unknown  seas.  If  only 
her  many  lovers  could  have  seen  her  then,  she  would  have 
scored  a  triumph  for  her  beauty  greater  than  any  she  had 
yet  experienced.  With  her  glorious  hair  half  loosened  about 
her,  and  her  exquisite  face,  pale  as  death,  illumined  by  the 
glimmering  glare  of  the  electric  lamp  which  also  gave  a 
cold  unnatural  brilliancy  to  her  dark  eyes,  and  her  figure 
wrapped  in  the  shrouding  sables  that  were  like  a  part 
of  the  mists  of  midnight  and  morning — she  was  wonder- 
ful to  behold, — nothing  more  wonderful  or  beautiful  in 
human  shape  had  ever  floated  solitary  between  earth  and 
heaven ! 

And  she  was  conscious  of  this, — for  she  began  to  think 
how  the  account  of  her  terrific  adventure  would  read  in 
the  newspapers. 

"  I  shall  be  the  most  famous  woman  in  the  world !  "  she 
thought,  with  a  sudden  smile — "  London,  Paris  and  New 
York  will  be  at  my  feet!  One  does  not  need  to  be  good  or 
clever  in  order  to  win  renown, — clever  people  are  generally 
dull  and  good  ones  always  so.  But  to  have  such  an  ex- 
perience as  this! — this  night  by  myself  in  a  balloon,  trusting 
to  chance  for  a  rescue,  is  enough  to  make  one's  name  cele- 
brated for  ever!"  And  her  smile  deepened.  "I  wonder 
what  Parson  Everton  will  say !  " 

Thus  she  talked  to  herself  for  a  while,  with  an  almost 
perfect  equanimity.  She  felt  confident  that  since  the  balloon 
had  come  in  contact  with  trees,  she  was  traveling  over 
inhabited  country  where,  with  the  daylight,  she  would  be 
seen  by  those  who  would  immediately  use  all  possible  effort 
for  her  rescue.  How  such  a  rescue  could  take  place,  seeing 
that  she  was  totally  ignorant  of  the  management  of  the 
balloon,  she  did  not  stop  to  think.  But  presently  her  heart 
began  to  trouble  her  with  the  quick  violence  of  its  pulsa- 
tions, and  she  again  experienced  difficulty  in  breathing.  This 
rather  took  away  her  nerve,  and  she  began  to  look  around 


460  HOLY     ORDERS 

her  with  renewed  qualms  of  terror.  The  balloon,  though 
she  knew  it  not,  was  at  an  altitude  of  nearly  fourteen  thou- 
sand feet.  Owing  to  the  terrific  speed  with  which  it  had  as- 
cended after  the  loss  of  such  '  ballast '  as  the  corpse  of 
Claude  Ferrers  had  provided  for  it,  it  had  escaped  a  threat- 
ening storm  area,  and  was  now  floating  at  a  tolerably 
even  pace  above  what  seemed  to  be  a  continent,  but  was 
merely  a  mass  of  black  clouds.  Below  the  clouds  lay 
Ireland  asleep — all  its  childish  frets  and  jars  and  tears 
hushed  in  slumber,  like  an  ailing  babe  rocked  to  rest  on 
the  bosom  of  Mother  Nature.  Moments  deepened  into 
hours  and  still  the  '  Shooting  Star '  glided  on,  moving 
slowly  with  the  slow  movement  of  the  upper  reaches  of  the 
air, — there  was  not  a  star  visible,  and  Jacynth,  as  she 
watched  the  profound  and  stirless  darkness  into  which  she 
was  plunged,  felt  her  brief  courage  fast  ebbing  away.  It  was 
horrible! — this  thick  gloom! — this  tense  silence!  Her  head 
swam, — her  pulses  beat  like  quick  hammers,  and  her  heart 
seemed  to  rise  in  her  bosom  with  a  sense  of  threatening  suf- 
focation. She  gave  a  sobbing  cry. 

"  If  only  the  light  would  come !  "  she  wailed — "  O  God, 
send  the  day !  " 

Scarcely  had  the  words  left  her  lips  when  a  rush  of 
thought,  like  a  burning  flood,  filled  every  nook  and  cranny 
of  her  brain.  God!  Why  had  she  appealed  to  what  she 
considered  non-existent?  'O  God,  send  the  day!'  What 
should  either  the  Day  or  the  Night  have  to  do  with  God? 
In  this  deep  and  awful  obscurity, — this  shadow  of  the  grave, 
— was  it  of  any  avail  to  call  or  to  pray  to  the  vast  Unknown 
Creative  Force  which  by  the  human  part  of  its  creation  is 
daily  blasphemed? 

She  wrung  her  hands,  drawing  little  tearful  breaths  of 
agony.  And  all  at  once  she  heard,  or  fancied  she  heard,  as 
though  it  were  speaking  from  a  long  distance,  a  sad  and 
gentle  voice  saying : — '  Jacynth,  is  it  possible  you  have  no 
faith?  Is  there  nothing  in  your  better  self  which  tells 
you  that  death  is  not  all  ?  That  there  is  a  Life  Beyond  ? ' 
And  again — '  As  surely  as  we  two  stand  here,  the  moment 
will  come  when  there  will  be  nothing  in  life  or  death  for 
you  but  this — Yourself  and  God!  No  friend  or  lover  will 
then  be  near  to  counsel  or  command, — you  will  be  alone, 


HOLY    ORDERS  461 

Jacynth ! — alone  with  the  Almighty  Power  whom  your  very 
thoughts  blaspheme ! ' 

Clearly  and  with  grave  emphasis  these  words  rang  in  her 
ears, — with  such  insistence  that  all  at  once  she  lost  her 
self-control  and  cried  wildly  to  the  darkness — 

"  Parson  Everton !  Parson  Everton !  Don't  look  at  me 
like  that!  Don't  be  hard  upon  me!  " 

And  she  dropped  feebly  on  her  knees,  sobbing,  laughing, 
screaming  and  moaning: 

"Listen,  listen!  Parson  Everton,  listen!  Look  at  me! 
You  know  how  beautiful  I  am — yes,  you  know, — you  see! 
There  was  never  a  lovelier  face  than  mine — everybody  says 
so — and  Dan — Dan — he  went  mad  for  me!  Ah  yes! — he 
went  mad  for  me,  and  you  would  have  gone  mad  for  me 
too — yes,  for  you're  only  a  man — if  it  had  not  been  for 
your  God !  And  what  has  your  God  done  for  you  ?  Nothing 
— nothing!  And  yet  you  believe  in  Him!  You  talked 
about  Him  in  Sunday  school  as  if  He  were  Everything! 
You  believe  in  Him!  God!  Where  is  He?" 

Here  her  hysterical  passion  checked  itself  abruptly  as 
though  spent — and  with  a  shuddering  sigh  she  raised  her- 
self half-way  up  from  her  knees,  staring  ahead — surely  the 
darkness  was  breaking?  Surely  that  was  a  gleam  of  light? 
Had  the  day  dawned  ?  There  was  a  coppery  red  tinge  in  the 
cloud-blackness  towards  the  north-east — here  and  there  it 
broke  into  dull  green,  and  to  the  south  a  soft  fine  pearly 
gray  began  to  spread  itself  in  veil-like  films  across  the  sky. 
She  looked  and  looked — and  smiled. 

"  A  doom  is  coming!  "  she  whispered — "  A  doom!  "  An- 
other moment,  and  her  voice  shrilled  out  to  a  shriek — she 
sprang  up  and  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the  car — "  Do  you 
hear  what  Parson  Everton  says?  A  doom  is  coming!  For 
me,  poor  Jacynth,  with  only  a  face  for  a  fortune!  A  doom 
is  coming!  Do  you  hear  it,  you  clouds?  Parson  Everton's 
God  is  angry  with  a  girl  for  her  sins!  "  and  she  laughed 
deliriously — "  Angry!  If  there  were  a  God  who  knew  and 
saw  everything,  He  could  never  be  angry!  He  could  only 
be  sorry !  " 

By  this  time  the  clouds  were  rapidly  dispersing — and  the 
most  miraculously  brilliant  colors  began  to  burn  on  all  sides 
of  the  heavens.  The  dawn  was  declaring  its  approach — and 


462  HOLY     ORDERS 

an  exquisite  pale  flush  of  pink  glowed  in  the  east,  uncurling 
like  the  petal  of  a  rose.  It  was  about  four  in  the  morning. 
As  the  light  grew  stronger,  Jacynth  became  calmer,  and 
steadying  herself  against  one  of  the  suspension  ropes  of  the 
balloon  as  before,  waited  expectantly  to  see  what  land  would 
appear  when  the  clouds  were  gone,  and  whether  she  was 
near  enough  to  the  earth  to  attract  attention.  Breathlessly 
she  watched,  as  layer  after  layer  of  fleecy  gray  unrolled  it- 
self in  lengths  of  soft  vapor  tinged  with  the  rainbow  hues 
of  coming  morning — and  presently,  after  what  seemed  an  in- 
terminable time  of  suspense,  the  first  beam  of  the  sun  shot 
upwards  like  an  arrow  of  gold.  Above  the  balloon  the 
sky  showed  glimpses  of  blue, — below,  all  was  yet  myste- 
riously veiled.  Conscious  now  of  no  other  feeling  than  the 
longing  to  know  where  she  was,  and  already  busy  in  her 
mind  with  plans  and  possibilities  of  attracting  some  means 
of  attention  and  rescue,  Jacynth  dried  the  tears  from  her 
eyes,  bound  up  her  hair  and  arranged  her  apparel  almost  as 
if  she  expected  to  alight  in  a  few  moments  among  a  crowd 
of  applauding  and  congratulatory  friends, — as  for  Claude 
Ferrers,  she  had  almost  forgotten  that  he  ever  lived.  Her 
interest  in  herself  was  so  unbounded  and  absorbing  that 
she  could  see  nothing  outside  the  potency  of  her  own  beauty, 
nor  did  she  care  to  remember  anything  that  seemed  to  as- 
sociate that  beauty  with  an  unpleasant  incident.  Her  peril- 
ous journey,  was  nearly  over,  she  thought — she  must  keep 
her  head  and  not  lose  her  nerve.  So  between  fear  and  hope 
she  hovered  in  mid-air — keeping  her  eyes  fixed  intently  on 
the  moving  panorama  of  clouds  below, — when  all  suddenly, 
as  though  at  a  word  of  command,  they  rolled  away  in  great 
masses,  disclosing  what  seemed  to  be  a  vast  white  mist, 
stretching  out  endlessly  from  north  to  south,  from  east  to 
west.  The  balloon  was  now  traveling  so  slowly  as  to  be 
almost  stationary,  and  Jacynth  gazed  as  from  a  balcony 
in  heaven  upon  that  great  mysterious  whiteness  which  spread 
itself  out  underneath  her  aerial  car  like  a  carpet  of  woven 
pearl.  Slowly,  very  slowly,  it  rose  in  thin,  straight  lines 
that  shredded  themselves  away  into  webs  as  fine  and  shim- 
mering as  floss  silk, — webs  and  loose  threads  that  twisted 
and  twined  and  interlaced  themselves  one  with  another  till, 
finally  lifting  and  disappearing  altogether,  they  left  bare  the 


HOLY    ORDERS  463 

treasure  they  had  guarded, — the  heaving  wonder  of  the 
ocean!  The  broad  Atlantic! — the  illimitable  expanse  of 
mighty  waters — and  not  a  glimpse  of  land  in  sight!  Only 
a  few  miles  away  was  the  coast  of  Connemara,  but  it  was 
wrapped  in  a  thick  curtain  of  fog,  and  the  balloon  was  drift- 
ing steadily  out  to  sea.  Moreover,  it  was  traveling  at  a 
less  rate  of  speed  and  at  a  gradually  lower  level. 

One  glance  around  her  and  Jacynth  understood.  This 
was  the  thing  called  Death,  which  fashionable  folk  made  so 
light  of  when  it  came  to  other  people  than  themselves.  This 
was  the  great  Silence  into  which  Dan  Kiernan  had  passed, 
with  his  victim,  the  poor  little  '  dolly  wife '  of  Parson  Ever- 
ton — this  was  the  black  chasm  of  cold  Nothingness  into 
which  she,  too,  with  ail  her  youth  and  beauty,  was  about 
to  fall ! 

"I  can't  believe  it!"  she  muttered,  feebly — "I  am  not 
going  to  die!  No — no!  I  cannot  die  yet!  I  haven't  lived 
my  life!" 

She  looked  around  her  on  all  sides.  Everywhere  the  waves 
rolled  and  leaped  and  murmured — there  was  a  solemn  and 
perpetual  rush  and  roar  among  them  like  the  sound  of  a 
great  organ.  The  vast  expanse  of  rough  water  stretching 
to  the  horizon  seemed  nearer, — was  the  balloon  sinking! 
Suddenly  she  looked  up.  There  was  a  vacant  stare  in  her 
eyes — a  wild  smile  on  her  mouth.  She  stretched  out  her 
hands. 

"  Parson  Everton!  "  she  called,  as  if  he  were  in  hearing 
— "  Parson  Everton,  where  shall  I  find  your  God  ?  " 

At  that  moment,  like  a  fire  springing  from  the  sea,  the 
sun  rose.  Its  beams,  till  now  pale  and  piercing  in  golden 
shafts  through  rising  veils  of  vapor,  flared  aloft  in  a  splen- 
did coronal  of  triumph  above  the  last  vanishing  cloud  left 
from  the  night,  and  in  a  rosy  depth  of  sky  so  warm  and  in- 
tense in  color  as  to  crimson  the  waves  below  with  the  clear- 
ness of  cut  rubies,  it  shed  forth  the  glory  of  the  day  upon 
the  world.  Between  it  and  surrounding  space  the  sinking 
balloon  with  its  one  frail  voyager  to  the  Unknown,  hovered 
tremblingly, — and,  leaning  from  its  car,  Jacynth  still  smiled 
and  waved  her  hands  as  though  in  farewell  to  a  friend. 
Bending  down  she  listened,  attentively  to  the  increasing  noise 
of  the  tumultuous  waters  as  she  sank  lower  and  lower,  and 


464  HOLY     ORDERS 

talked  to  herself  with  all  the  happy  unconsciousness  of  a  dis- 
traught brain. 

"There  go  the  bells  of  Shadbrook  Church!"  she  mur- 
mured— "Make  haste,  Dan!  I  want  you  to  see  me  there 
in  my  best  frock.  Don't  be  late!  We  must  pretend  to  be 
good,  you  know!  It's  so  easy  to  deceive  Parson  Everton! 
Come,  come !  It's  Communion  Sunday !  " 

Here  suddenly  drawing  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  she 
flashed  her  brilliant  jewel  eyes  in  the  golden  face  of  the 
sun. 

"  Yes,  Parson  Everton," — she  said,  in  gentle  accents — "  I 
know  my  lesson !  '  I  believe  in  God  the  Father  Almighty, 
Maker  of  heaven  and  earth ! ' ' 

With  that  she  folded  her  hands  together,  and  resting 
them  on  the  edge  of  the  car  looked  placidly  on  at  the  grow- 
ing splendor  of  the  day. 

And  when  noon  came,  both  sun  and  sky  were  clear  of 
anything  more  strange  than  the  sea-birds  flying  across  the 
roughening  waves,  and  diving  like  winged  sunbeams  among 
the  rising  and  falling  crests  of  foam. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

YEARS  passed  swiftly  away, — and  once  again  Richard 
Everton  stood  in  a  London  pulpit,  looking  down  upon 
one  of  the  largest  congregations  that  had  ever  filled  the  great 
spaces  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  That  vast  interior  was 
packed  with  human  beings,  and  every  head  was  upturned, 
every  eye  fixed  upon  one  who  had  attained  the  reputation 
of  being  not  only  the  finest  but  also  the  most  daring  preacher 
of  the  day, — so  daring,  indeed,  that  he  was  constantly  being 
offered  '  preferment '  in  an  attempt  to  remove  him  from 
his  own  immediate  sphere  of  influence  and  thus  minimize 
the  peril  into  which  his  bold  and  fearless  utterances  brought 
less  honest  men  of  his  calling.  All  such  offers,  however, 
he  steadily  refused,  electing  still  to  remain  Vicar  of  Shad- 
brook.  As  Vicar  of  Shadbrook,  he  had  become  a  power  in 
the  land;  and  as  Vicar  of  Shadbrook  he  stood  now  under 
the  dome  of  St.  Paul's,  waiting  while  the  last  verses  of 
the  hymn  before  the  sermon  were  being  sung,  to  address  a 
congregation  drawn  from  all  quarters  of  the  metropolis — 
a  congregation  profoundly  interested  in  the  character  and 
personality  of  the  man  they  were  about  to  hear, — a  character 
and  personality  which  his  work  in  Shadbrook  alone  had  made 
famous.  Shadbrook,  limited  as  it  was,  had  proved  sufficient 
for  him;  and  Shadbrook  had  steadily  risen  to  the  call  his 
patient  love  and  care  had  made  upon  it.  It  had  grown 
and  prospered  exceedingly;  the  number  of  its  houses  and 
thatched  cottages  had  increased,  and  art  and  careful  ar- 
chitecture alike  had  combined,  not  to  destroy  but  to  enhance 
the  beauty  of  its  natural  surroundings;  even  its  running 
stream  was  now  kept  so  bright  and  clear  that  it  had  become 
a  rippling  joy  under  the  old  stone  bridge,  instead  of  a  source 
of  trouble  and  infection.  Its  people  were  gradually  becom- 
ing renowned  throughout  the  country  as  skillful  workers  in 
many  branches  of  trade  and  agriculture,  for  where  Minchin's 
brewery  once  stood  was  now  a  nobly  built  and  finely  pro- 
portioned School  of  Trades,  endowed  and  supported  by  the 

465 


466  HOLY     ORDERS 

munificence  of  an  American  millionaire  and  philanthropist, 
no  other  than  Everton's  chance  acquaintance,  Clarence  How- 
ard. The  School  of  Trades  was  an  entirely  novel  enter- 
prise. Much  money  had  to  be  sunk  in  it  before  it  showed 
any  signs  of  success, — but  it  had  now  '  caught  on '  as  the 
saying  is,  and  had  attracted  so  many  students  and  workers 
from  all  parts  of  Britain  that  it  promised  to  be  of  real 
national  service  as  a  pioneer  of  practical  education  in  the 
needful  knowledge  of  life  and  business.  Erected  on  the 
beautiful  architectural  lines  of  a  grand  old  Tudor  manor, 
with  gabled  roof  and  wide  latticed  windows,  it  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  glorious  garden, — it  had  its  reading  and  recrea- 
tion rooms,  its  dining-hall,  its  library,  its  theater  which 
served  for  lectures  and  concerts,  and  its  workshops  where 
every  trade  was  taught  and  practically  mastered,  each  stu- 
dent receiving  diplomas  and  awards  as  in  other  educational 
systems.  Everton  was  the  life  and  soul  of  this  great  or- 
ganization, which  though  not  actually  situated  in  his  own 
parish,  was  still  near  enough  to  exert  a  beneficial  influence 
upon  his  parishioners,  drawing  them  away  from  idle  loung- 
ing and  gossiping,  teaching  them  the  happiness  of  intelligent 
craftsmanship,  and  arousing  in  them  that  creative  spirit  of 
unhasting  but  unresting  ambition,  which  impels  a  man  or 
woman  to  do  whatever  has  to  be  done  so  truly  well  that 
his  or  her  labor  shall  be  honestly  worth  its  price.  There 
was  never  a  case  of  drunkenness  to  be  reported  anywhere  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  yet  drink  of  a  pure  and  wholesome 
kind  was  not  withheld.  When  the  men  and  women  workers 
at  the  School  of  Trades  met  together,  as  they  all  did,  Sun- 
days included,  in  their  lofty  dining-hall,  for  their  mid-day 
meal,  they  could  have  anything  they  liked  to  drink  in  mod- 
eration, except  raw  spirit.  Beer,  brewed  on  the  premises  by 
some  of  the  workers  themselves,  according  to  plain  old- 
fashioned  methods  and  wholly  unadulterated,  could  be  had 
on  demand, — the  theory  of  this  procedure  being  the  same 
which  was  formerly  practiced  by  many  English  landowners, 
who,  while  firmly  refusing  to  allow  any  brewery,  distillery 
or  public-house  on  their  ground,  yet  permitted  their  tenants 
to  brew  such  beer  as  they  required  for  themselves  in  their 
own  houses,  just  in  the  same  way  of  freedom  as  they  made 
their  own  ginger  or  elder  wines.  The  result  of  this  plan 


HOLY    ORDERS  467 

was  that  while  there  was  no  intemperance,  there  were  equally 
no  complaints  of  '  teetotal  tyranny,'  and  every  one  was  sober 
and  satisfied.  It  is  a  plan  that  might  be  followed  with 
safety  and  advantage  in  many  a  rural  community  if  those 
persons  who  possess  manorial  rights  would  enforce  such  a 
simple  method  of  persuasion  to  temperance.  The  School 
of  Trades  prospered  so  greatly,  and  its  members  were  all 
so  happy  and  healthy  and  diligently  occupied  with  well- 
remunerated  labor,  that  young  Laurence  Everton,  now  a 
brilliant  scholar,  and  the  pride  of  his  college  in  Cambridge, 
used  oftentimes  to  declare  that  the  training  there  was  quite 
as  good  as  any  to  be  obtained  at  either  of  the  universities — 
"  and  " — he  would  add,  with  a  toss  of  his  handsome  head, 
and  a  mischievous  flash  of  his  bright  eyes,  "  ever  so  much 
more  useful !  The  Classics  are  all  very  well  in  their  way — 
splendid  literature  and  all  that, — but  they  can't  help  a  fel- 
low much  to  earn  an  honest  living."  And  when  at  home 
for  his  holidays  he  always  worked  in  the  School  himself, 
"learning  a  bit  of  all  the  trades  in  turn!"  he  would  say, 
laughingly,  and  the  Shadbrook  people,  who  adored  the  very 
sight  of  him,  were  wont  to  remark  proudly:  "There  was 
nothing  Mr.  Laurence  couldn't  do,  bless  him!  He  could 
shoe  a  horse,  or  build  a  house — either  was  as  easy  to  him 
as  t'other !  " 

And  the  Vicar  had  his  hands  full.  His  life,  which  he 
had  thought  no  more  than  a  broken  reed,  had  been  raised  up 
by  divine  ordainment  to  a  stem  of  prolific  blossom.  He  was 
not  only  the  spiritual  but  the  material  guardian  of  the  whole 
growing  community  about  him, — he  was  their  friend,  their 
adviser,  their  helper, — beloved  beyond  all  words,  and  hon- 
ored to  the  utmost  point  of  reverence.  With  the  onward 
flow  of  time  he  had  altered  little, — his  hair  had  grown  gray, 
but  his  face  had  retained  its  firm  intellectual  outline,  and  the 
dark  blue  eyes  so  deeply  set  under  the  shelving  brows  had 
a  great  tenderness  in  their  quiet  depths, — the  reflection  of 
a  heart's  constant  sympathy  with  all  sorrow.  Since  Jacynth's 
tragic  end  he  had  never  visited  London.  In  many  other  parts 
of  the  kingdom  he  had  preached ;  never  there.  But  now,  cer- 
tain phases  in  the  social  aspect  of  the  world  had  moved 
him  to  strong  protest; — he  heard,  or  thought  he  heard,  the 
mystic  '  Orders '  he  had  waited  for — "  This  do  in  remem- 


468  HOLY     ORDERS 

brance  of  Me  " — and  with  his  well-earned  fame,  won  by 
no  fictitious  '  boom,'  but  by  his  own  sincerity,  power  and 
eloquence,  he  had  easily  secured  an  opportunity  of  addressing 
himself  to  a  congregation  which  he  had  resolved  should  be 
aroused,  if  he  could  possibly  arouse  it,  to  a  sense  of  the 
peril  which,  according  to  his  mind,  threatened  the  nation. 
The  sweet  music  of  the  choristers'  voices  rising  above  the 
solemn  chords  of  the  great  organ  which  sustained  the  melody 
of  the  hymn  they  were  singing,  floated  soothingly  around 
him  as  he  looked  down  from  the  pulpit  on  the  close  array 
of  upturned  faces,  some  intelligent,  some  foolish,  some  gentle, 
some  proud,  and  the  tide  of  memory  swept  him  back  to 
the  day,  long  years  ago,  when  Jacynth  had  vanished  from 
his  sight  for  evermore  with  her  last  call — "  Good-by,  Par- 
son Everton !  "  Neither  he  nor  any  one  else  had  seen  her 
upon  earth  again.  The  body  of  her  companion,  Claude 
Ferrers,  had  been  found,  horribly  mangled  and  disfigured, 
on  the  edge  of  a  wild  moor  in  Ireland,  but  the  famous  bal- 
loon with  its  one  remaining  passenger  had  totally  disap- 
peared, and  its  ultimate  fate  was  unknown.  The  disaster 
had  caused  a  nine  days'  society  '  sensation  ' — but  it  was  now 
forgotten,  even  by  Israel  Nordstein,  who  had  married  an- 
other '  variety  '  girl.  The  '  cult '  of  Claude  Ferrers,  how- 
ever, was  still  kept  up  by  a  certain  circle  of  decadents,  sim- 
ply because  it  was  a  '  cult '  of  shameless  vice ;  his  poems, 
of  the  sensual-amatory  order,  were  constantly  thrust  before 
the  public  in  advertisements  of  extra  large  type,  and  one  or 
two  of  his  most  revolting  plays  were  produced  by  managers 
anxious  for  a  '  draw,'  because  of  their  brazen  indecency 
which  the  '  censor '  obligingly  condoned, — but  so  far  as  the 
million  were  concerned,  Ferrers  was  no  more  known  or 
thought  of  than  Jacynth.  They  had  been  mere  useless  units 
in  the  great  mass  of  humanity,  unwanted  and  therefore  un- 
missed.  Even  in  Shadbrook  Jacynth  was  almost  forgotten. 
Those  who  remembered  her  at  all  had  never  really  known 
what  became  of  her,  and  the  only  association  with  her  that 
remained  in  their  minds,  was  her  connection  with  Dan 
Kiernan,  which  had  been  the  indirect  cause  of  the  murder 
of  their  Vicar's  wife.  They  had  heard  a  rumor  that  she 
was  married;  but  they  did  not  know  she  was  dead.  Nor 
did  the  Vicar  tell  them.  Not  even  to  the  wretched  old 


HOLY    ORDERS  469 

crone,  the  *  Auntie '  whose  habitual  drunkenness  had  made 
her  such  an  incapable  guardian  of  Jacynth's  childhood,  and 
who,  when  dying,  clung  to  him  and  screamed  out  that  '  the 
devils  were  taking  her  and  that  one  of  them  was  Jacynth  ' 
— did  he  reveal  the  story  of  the  girl's  later  history  and  end. 
That  was  a  secret  he  kept  to  himself.  Seldom  indeed  did 
he  permit  his  thoughts  to  dwell  upon  the  past  except  that 
portion  of  it  which  was  endeared  to  him  by  his  married  life 
and  his  love  for  Azalea, — and  it  was  only  now — now  when 
after  a  long  lapse  of  time  he  found  himself  again  in  the 
great  city  which  when  last  he  had  visited  it  had  been  the 
scene  of  an  episode  he  was  never  likely  to  forget,  that  bitter 
memories  jose  again  and  swept  over  him  like  a  burning 
wave,  making  his  heart  thrill  with  an  old  restless  yearning. 
Two  faces  hovered  like  visions  in  the  light  before  him, — 
one  of  a  little  fair  angel  with  blue  eyes  and  clustering  gold 
curls,  and  sweet  lips  that  murmured : — "  You  are  my  hus- 
band— my  darling  and  my  best  in  the  whole  world ! " — 
the  other  that  of  a  bewitchingly  beautiful  temptress  with 
dark  wild  passionate  eyes  and  a  rose-red  mouth  that  said: — 
"  It  is  only  your  God  that  stands  between  us — the  God  of 
the  Churches,  not  the  God  of  Nature!  It  is  your  religion 
that  makes  you  narrow  and  miserable — a  religion  that  was 
not  strong  enough  to  save  Dan  or  me.  Think  of  that! 
Think  that  we  both  heard  you  preach  of  Christ  every  Sun- 
day and  that  neither  of  us  was  a  bit  the  better  for  it.  Think 
of  that  when  I  am  gone !  For  it  wants  thinking  about ! " 
Yes;  it  wanted  thinking  about.  And  he  had  thought 
about  it  all  these  years.  All  these  years!  He  had  thought 
about  it  and  worked  at  the  problem  it  presented.  "  A  re- 
ligion that  was  not  strong  enough  to  save  Dan  or  me." 
That  was  a  hard  saying,  and  he  had  pondered  upon  it  deeply. 
"  A  religion  not  strong  enough."  That  was  not  true.  It 
is  not  religion  that  is  weak,  but  the  human  exponents  of  it. 
It  is  they  who  lack  courage  and  conviction, — they  who  for 
the  sake  of  petty  conventionalism  are  content  to  be  cow- 
ards. He,  Richard  Everton,  had  determined  to  take  his 
own  way  and  prove  his  own  power, — and  he  had  succeeded. 
This  enormous  crowd  gathered  under  the  dome  of  St. 
Paul's  to  hear  him  preach,  was  an  eloquent  testimony  to 
that  success.  And  as  the  singing  of  the  hymn  came  to  an 


470  HOLY     ORDERS 

end  with  its  long-drawn  gravely-melodious  '  Amen ! '  he 
looked  over  the  great  mass  of  human  beings  stretching  away 
in  dense  ranks  everywhere  below  the  pulpit,  and  thought 
of  the  starved  souls  of  them  all,  waiting  to  be  fed  with  the 
bread  of  life, — life  which  is  life  indeed, — vigorous,  healthy, 
hopeful,  sane  and  sober  life, — life  such  as  God  intended 
should  be  enjoyed  by  all  His  creatures,  if  they  would  but 
follow  His  lawsi  Looking  upon  them  thus,  he,  like  his 
Master,  Christ,  '  had  compassion  on  the  multitude ' ;  the 
tears  and  fire  of  a  passionate  pity  made  smoldering  heat  in 
his  brain, — he,  '  the  most  fearless  preacher  of  his  day,'  as  he 
was  commonly  called,  felt  that  a  moment  had  come  when 
those  who  were  hungering  for  any  crumb  of  truth  should 
not  be  sent  away  unsatisfied.  Politicians  might  shuffle  and 
play  tricks  with  the  honor  of  the  nation, — but  he,  with 
Christ's  holy  orders  binding  upon  his  conscience,  would 
speak  without  fear  or  favor. 

With  the  cessation  of  the  Cathedral  choir  there  came  a 
great  silence,  and  after  the  usual  prefatory  prayer  he  stood 
for  a  moment  absorbed  in  thought.  Just  below  him  was 
seated  his  son  Laurence,  the  pride  of  his  heart, — the  hand- 
some young  face  was  the  stronger  image  of  Azalea's — the 
clear  dark  blue  eyes  the  very  copies  of  his  own.  The  lad 
was  looking  up  at  him  in  awed  admiration,  and  almost  he 
smiled.  Then,  with  a  magnetic  thrill  in  his  voice  which 
expressed  the  greater  thrill  at  his  heart,  he  gave  out  the 
text  of  what  the  current  press  next  day  called  '  A  Startling 
Sermon,'  and  which  afterwards  brought  down  upon  him  the 
withering  condemnation  of  that  singular  section  of  the 
community  which,  by  dint  of  doing  nothing  but  waste  time 
and  money,  calls  itself  '  smart  society/ 

"  Hear,  O  earth ;  behold  I  will  bring  evil  upon  this  people, 
even  the  fruit  of  their  thoughts." 

After  pronouncing  these  words  slowly  and  with  emphasis 
he  waited  a  moment.  The  stillness;  of  the  congregation  was 
remarkable, — not  a  man  or  woman  moved,  and  all  eyes 
were  directed  towards  him. 

"  You  will  find  this  passage," — he  said,  "  in  the  Book 
of  the  Prophet  Jeremiah, — in  the  sixth  chapter,  at  the  nine- 
teenth verse.  I  will  repeat  it  again,  for  I  want  you  all  to 
remember  it.  '  Hear,  O  earth ;  behold  I  will  bring  evil  upon 
this  people,  even  the  fruit  of  their  thoughts.' " 


HOLY    ORDERS  471 

Once  more  he  paused.  He  had  no  written  notes  before 
him  to  refer  to, — nothing  but  the  open  Bible  from  which 
he  had  just  read  out  the  quoted  verse.  And  on  the  pages 
of  the  Holy  Book  he  rested  one  hand  as  he  turned  full  upon 
his  audience. 

"What  is  the  fruit  of  a  thought?"  he  began,  and  his 
voice  rang  clear  through  the  great  Cathedral  like  a  silver 
clarion — "  Have  we  ever  rightly  understood  that  a  thought 
can  bear  fruit  at  all?  We,  whose  brains  in  this  present 
generation  more  resemble  empty  gourds  in  which  dried  peas 
are  put  to  rattle  for  the  amusement  of  children,  than  that 
complex,  beautiful  and  wonderful  God's  design  of  fine 
cells  for  the  storage  of  the  honey  of  wisdom, — do  we,  can 
we  realize  the  mechanism  and  evolvement  of  thought?  The 
fruit  of  a  thought!  It  is  a  notable  expression,  and  proves 
that  the  prophet  who  made  use  of  it  had  a  clear  conception 
of  what  we  call  our  '  latest '  science.  For  psychology  teaches 
us  that  thoughts  are  things;  and  that  the  delicate  move- 
ments of  the  brain-cells  emit  invisible  fine  exhalations  con- 
taining the  seed  from  which,  as  from  the  pollen  of  a  flower, 
actual  forms  take  shape  and  grow  into  substance.  The 
thoughts  of  a  man  are  the  man  himself;  and  according  to 
the  way  he  thinks,  so  is  the  life  he  leads.  His  thought  is 
the  seed, — his  life  is  the  '  fruit  of  his  thoughts.'  Moreover, 
he  has  still  a  greater  and  graver  responsibility  set  upon  him 
than  that  which  pertains  to  his  own  existence,  for  his 
thoughts  are  not  allowed  to  belong  to  himself  exclusively. 
He  is  unconsciously  compelled  to  transmit  them  to  others, 
— to  his  children,  his  friends  and  his  neighbors.  In  his 
children  the  '  fruit '  of  his  thoughts  yields  oftentimes  strange 
harvests  for  their  future  good  or  evil, — in  his  friends  and 
neighbors  it  results  in  a  crop  of  pleasant  or  unpleasant  as- 
sociations, which  spreading  from  himself  as  a  center  of 
radiation,  make  the  happiness  or  unhappiness  of  a  whole 
community.  In  the  same  way  a  nation,  like  an  individual, 
is  expressed  by  the  '  fruit  of  its  thoughts.'  The  lines  on 
which  its  people  are  taught  to  think  are  the  lines  on  which 
its  honor  is  uplifted  or  its  shame  disclosed.  Its  responsibility, 
too,  is  the  same,  for  the  thoughts  on  which  it  dwells  now 
will  be  the  '  fruit '  on  which  the  next  generation  will  have 
to  feed, — or  starve!  " 

He  paused  for  a  moment;  then,  with  a  slight  change  of 


472  HOLY     ORDERS 

attitude   which    brought    his    eyes   more   keenly   upon    the 
greater  bulk  of  the  congregation,  he  resumed: — 

"  It  would  trouble  you  too  much,  and  by  many  of  you 
be  considered  a  waste  of  your  time,  if  I  were  to  ask  you  to 
go  back  with  me  in  history  and  try  to  realize  the  splendors 
of  past  civilization  in  those  great  empires  and  kingdoms  of 
ancient  days  when  Britain  was  unknown,  and  which  are 
now  mere  dust-heaps  in  the  world  for  occasional  antiquarians 
to  explore.  Our  learned  men  tell  us  about  them ;  our  liter- 
ature teems  with  speculative  matter  concerning  them, — but 
the  chief  point  about  them  to  my  mind,  seems  that  neither 
their  former-time  magnificence,  nor  their  present  degrada- 
tion teaches  us  in  our  generation  any  lesson.  Yet,  were  we 
to  probe  to  the  very  core  of  the  causes  involved  in  the  ruin 
of  communities  once  progressive  and  prosperous,  we  should 
find  it  to  be  the  '  fruit  of  their  thoughts.'  No  more  and  no 
less!  No  extraordinary  or  unjust  visitation  of  Divine  wrath 
swept  the  corrupt  '  cities  of  the  plain  '  out  of  existence  as 
in  the  smoke  of  a  furnace  and  covered  their  ruins  with  the 
salt  and  bitter  flood  of  the  Dead  Sea, — their  destruction 
was  the  working  of  the  inviolable  Law, — that  unalterable 
Law  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  mathematics — '  the 
fruit  of  their  thoughts.'  Thoughts  beginning  inwardly  in 
imperceptible  brain-throbbings,  and  from  their  inward  work- 
ing manifesting  themselves  outwardly  in  word  and  deed, 
ripened  into  the  poison-fruit  of  sin;  and  this  fruit  becom- 
ing the  favorite  food  of  the  dwellers  in  those  cities,  destroyed 
them  according  to  the  natural  action  of  poison.  Tyre  and 
Sidon,  Carthage  and  Babylon,  all  show  the  same  cause  and 
effect.  When  Jeremiah  foretold  the  doom  of  Jerusalem,  he 
spoke  of  thoughts  that  had  ripened  into  their  fruit  of  deed, 
thus: — '  I  have  seen  also  in  the  prophets  of  Jerusalem  an 
horrible  thing;  they  commit  adultery  and  walk  in  lies:  they 
strengthen  also  the  hands  of  evil  doers  that  none  doth  re- 
turn from  his  wickedness;  they  are  all  of  them  unto  me  as 
Sodom  and  the  inhabitants  thereof  as  Gomorrah.  Therefore, 
thus  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts — Behold  I  will  feed  them 
with  wormwood  and  make  them  drink  the  water  of  gall, 
for  from  the  prophets  of  Jerusalem  is  profaneness  gone  forth 
into  all  the  land.'  In  these  words,  uttered  in  ancient  times 
of  growing  evil,  do  we  see  no  application  to  ourselves?  No 


HOLY    ORDERS  473 

fitness  as  concerns  our  Church,  our  Government,  our  coun- 
try, our  society?  Are  our  eyes  too  blinded  by  egotism  to 
see  likewise  '  an  horrible  thing '  among  our  own  '  prophets ' 
— that  is  to  say  among  many  of  our  preachers  and  teachers, 
who  '  commit  adultery  and  walk  in  lies  and  strengthen  the 
hands  of  evil  doers  that  none  doth  return  from  his  wicked- 
ness '  ?  Are  not  the  unnamable  sins  of  the  '  cities  of  the 
plain  '  familiar  following  among  our  devotees  of  '  court  and 
society  '  to-day  ? — sins,  which  like  foul  cancers  spread  quickly 
and  steadily  till  they  infect  the  whole  body  social  and  poli- 
tic? Are  we  not  ripe  for  another  rain  of  fire  from  heaven, 
and  the  desolate  pall  of  another  Dead  Sea?  We  are! — and 
it  is  with  an  unspeakable  love  for  my  country  and  fear  for 
its  future  destinies,  that  I  seek  to  remind  you  to-day  of 
the  long-ago  pronounced  Divine  warning: — '  Hear,  O  earth: 
behold  I  will  bring  evil  upon  this  people,  even  the  fruit  of 
their  thoughts.'  " 

Again  he  paused.  A  faint  movement  stirred  the  congre- 
gation like  an  expectant  sigh.  His  eyes  flashed  over  the 
crowd, — his  voice  grew  fuller  and  more  resonant. 

"  The  fruit  of  our  thoughts !  "  he  exclaimed — "  The  fruit 
of  the  thoughts  of  our  nation  to-day!  Friends,  what  will  it 
be?  Poison  or  sweet  food  to  those  who  come  after  us? 
Whichever  it  is,  it  will  be  our  growing,  our  giving,  our 
responsibility.  We  alone  must  decide  its  nature  and  quality. 
Of  what  are  we,  as  a  nation,  thinking?  What  occupies  us 
most  from  morning  to  night?  To  what  do  we  give  our 
best  of  care  and  toil?  Is  it  not  Self?  The  pampering  of 
selfish  lusts,  the  humoring  of  selfish  whims,  the  delight  of 
selfish  ends?  We  play  a  blasphemous  farce  when  we  assume 
for  mere  appearance'  sake  to  consider  God  greater  than  Self, 
if  all  our  plans  of  action  in  this  world  are  conceived  and 
carried  out  for  the  advantage  of  Self  only.  Self  must  be 
to  our  true  minds  greater  than  God  if  we  give  it  most  of 
our  time  and  service.  And  if  our  thoughts  dwell  upon 
this  Self,  which  is  perishable,  the  '  fruit '  of  our  thoughts 
is  perishable  likewise,  and  leaves  nothing  for  future  genera- 
tions to  live  upon.  Of  what,  I  ask,  is  the  nation  thinking? 
Question  any  man  we  casually  meet  concerning  his  thoughts, 
and  we  shall  find  they  chiefly  turn  on  money-getting,  while 
with  a  woman  they  are  bent  on  money-spending.  Little 


474  HOLY     ORDERS 

'  fruit '  can  be  expected  from  thoughts  such  as  these,  the 
casual  surface  thoughts  of  casual  surface  men  and  women, 
• — but  let  us  go  deeper  and  try  to  read  thoughts  of  a  dif- 
ferent nature, — terrible  thoughts  that  have  lately  been  care- 
lessly and  wickedly  sown  among  our  once  God-fearing  people 
by  a  terrible  press  and  a  terrible  literature — a  press  that 
makes  light  of  the  sanctity  of  marriage,  and  publicly  con- 
dones the  '  social '  sway  of  women  of  easy  virtue, — a  liter- 
ature that  teems  with  indecency  and  open  blasphemy.  These 
are  '  thoughts '  whose  '  fruit '  is  national  corruption.  The 
thinkers  of  such  thoughts — the  writers  of  such  thoughts 
are  the  worst  of  criminals, — they  are  the  murderers  of  in- 
nocence and  the  thieves  of  honor.  The  '  fruit '  of  the  brain- 
seed  they  scatter  will  be  seen  in  the  degeneration  of  our 
country's  manhood,  and  the  degradation  of  its  womanhood 
— it  is  seen  even  now,  and  the  evil  increases  daily  and  hourly. 
Amid  it  all  stands  the  Church  of  Christ,  which  should  be 
a  Pharos  shedding  clear  radiance  over  the  dark  and  troubled 
waters, — but  the  light  is  obscured,  for  the  men  who  should 
be  on  the  watch  to  avert  danger  to  the  Ship  of  State  are 
absent  from  their  posts  and  asleep — wrapped  in  a  blanket 
of  comfortable  conventionalities  and  too  lazy  to  stir !  " 

He  flung  the  words  out  with  passion, — and  a  thrill  of 
something  like  excitement  ran  through  his  crowded  audi- 
ence. 

"  If  you  saw,"  he  went  on,  leaning  from  the  pulpit  with 
one  hand  outstretched,  "  if  you  saw  the  Mother  of  Christ 
represented  in  a  semi-nude  dancer  on  a  '  variety  '  stage,  would 
you  resent  it?  Would  you  be  shocked  and  outraged?  I 
suppose  you  would.  But  would  you  show  your  indignation 
publicly  by  leaving  the  music-hall  where  such  an  exhibition 
was  tolerated,  and  never  entering  it  again?  Almost  I  doubt 
it!  Some  of  you  would  watch  the  dance  to  a  close, — others 
would  say  it  was  '  the  reverent  poetry  of  motion ! '  I  doubt 
if  one  of  you  would  have  the  courage  to  rise  up  and  say: 
'  In  the  name  of  the  Christian  Religion,  on  which  the  nation 
professes  to  base  its  law  and  morality,  I  protest  against  this 
hideous  blasphemy.'  You  might  perhaps  hold  that  it  was 
a  matter  for  the  censure  of  the  Church.  Well !  Our  Arch- 
bishops and  Bishops  would  '  consider '  the  position  before 
pronouncing  the  urgently  needed  condemnation.  And  their 


HOLY    ORDERS  475 

consideration  would  probably  end,  as  usual,  in  inaction. 
They  have  remained  dumb  and  inert  in  these  latter  days 
when  crowds  have  gathered  to  see  a  scene  of  Gospel  history 
turned  into  an  indecent  '  variety '  show.  King,  Queen, 
Premier  and  Court  have  all  tolerated  the  representation  of 
the  daughter  of  Herodias's  dance  with  the  head  of  John  the 
Baptist, — he  who  was  the  herald  and  forerunner  of  Christ, 
— forgetful,  apparently,  that  the  scene  thus  vulgarized  is 
from  positive  Holy  Writ,  and  is  not  the  diseased  emanation 
of  the  brain  of  an  unspeakable  criminal.  Greater  honor 
could  scarcely  have  been  paid  to  a  world's  noblest  thinker, 
a  world's  greatest  benefactor,  a  world's  highest  teacher  than 
the  representatives  and  defenders  of  England  and  England's 
Christian  faith  have  shown  to  a  public  exponent  of  shame- 
less indecency  and  blasphemy.  Such  an  act  on  the  part 
of  those  who  should  be  leaders  of  principle  and  supporters 
of  honor,  marks  our  '  Christian '  epoch  with  a  brand  of 
disgrace.  But  no  rebuke  is  launched  from  the  Church 
whose  Gospel  is  thus  vulgarly  outraged, — and  I,  a  minister 
of  that  Church,  shall  probably  be  told  that  I  am  taking  too 
much  upon  myself  to  condemn  what  the  silence  of  a  Primate 
condones.  But  for  that  I  do  not  care.  Consider,  if  you 
please,  that  I  have  no  '  tact ' — no  skill  to  seem  what  I  am 
not, — that  I  have  none  of  the  '  diplomacy '  practiced  by 
such  members  of  my  calling  as  find  it  convenient  to  preach 
Christ  to  others  while  they  themselves  serve  Satan.  I  hold 
myself  responsible  for  all  I  say  and  do  to  a  Master  who  is 
above  Archbishops  and  Bishops, — whose  commands  are  clear, 
and  beyond  all  worldly  conventions — and  to  whom  I  must 
render  an  account  of  my  service  in  the  honor  of  His  Name 
when  I  die.  And  I  say  straightly  and  fearlessly  that  if  His 
words  are  true,  and  if  Christian  England  still  holds  and 
believes  them  to  be  true,  then  the  '  fruit '  of  the  thoughts 
that  can  tolerate  such  a  public  mockery  of  the  Gospel  as 
that  which  our  '  social '  leaders  have  lately  approved  and  ap- 
plauded, can  be  but  bitter  and  poisonous, — an  evil  suggestion 
to  the  nation,  sinking  into  the  very  marrow  of  life  and  rot- 
ting it  to  the  bone !  " 

The  great  crowd  stirred  uneasily.  Glances  full  of  fear 
and  amazement  were  turned  upon  him,  but  his  own  eyes 
seemed  to  absorb  all  the  questioning,  all  the  wonder,  and 


476  HOLY     ORDERS 

shine  back  with  the  brave  light  of  a  truth  that  would  not 
be  gainsaid. 

"  You  shrink  at  my  words," — he  said — "  because  I  am 
bold  enough  to  speak  my  mind  on  what  I  consider  the  wicked 
and  pernicious  example  shown  to  the  people  of  this  land  by 
those  who  should  be  their  guides  to  the  noblest  heights  of 
conduct.  Cramped  by  conventions  as  most  of  you  are,  you 
think  it  is  not  the  business  of  men  in  the  Church  to  rebuke 
persons  of  rank  and  position.  It  is  unwise — it  is  unsafe! 
My  friends,  who  is  it  that  an  ordained  minister  is  bound  to 
serve  ?  '  Persons  of  rank  and  position  '  ?  Is  it  not  rather 
the  Man  of  Nazareth  who  on  earth  had  no  rank  or  position, 
and  never,  so  far  as  we  may  know,  associated  with  any  class 
save  the  poor  and  the  suffering?  There  is  no  rank  or  posi- 
tion before  God.  No  section  of  a  nation  is  set  apart  for 
special  honor  by  the  powers  of  Heaven.  But  whereas  in  our 
class  distinctions  we  make  a  High  and  a  Low,  the  social 
crimes  of  the  higher  ranks  are  tenfold  more  mischievous 
than  those  of  the  lower,  and  deserve  more  scathing  rebuke. 
For  these  higher  ranks  have  every  advantage  and  opportu- 
nity given  then  to  live  in  clean  and  upright  ways  and  to  show 
an  example  to  their  less  fortunate  brethren — and  when  they 
voluntarily  sink  into  the  slime  of  demoralization,  they  bring 
upon  themselves  and  their  country  the  '  fruit  of  their 
thoughts  ' — that  '  evil '  which  breeds  anarchy  and  revolu- 
tion, ending  oftentimes  in  the  complete  downfall  and  de- 
struction of  a  once  great  and  powerful  empire.  For  the  old 
warning  rings  down  the  ages  with  conviction  to  this  day — 
'  I  will  bring  evil  upon  this  people, — even  the  fruit  of  their 
thoughts! ' 

"  But  I  freely  admit  that  the  Church,  as  a  rule,  says  little 
or  nothing  to  '  persons  of  rank  and  distinction.'  It  occupies 
itself  much  with  reproaches  to  the  already  over-reproved 
poor  for  their  sins  and  follies  and  mistakes,  which  are  chiefly 
the  result  of  the  ignorance  in  which  they  have  for  centuries 
been  allowed  to  live  by  their  '  betters.'  The  drunkenness, 
the  immoralities  of  the  poor  are  themes  on  which  the  full- 
pursed  man  is  never  tired  of  expatiating.  On  the  drunken- 
ness and  the  immoralities  of  the  rich  he  preserves  a  discreet 
silence.  And  it  may  be  that  some  of  the  money  which  makes 
his  purse  bulge  with  so  much  comfortable  excess,  is  drawn 


HOLY    ORDERS  477 

from  this  very  drunkenness  and  immorality  which  he  so 
unctuously  deplores.  I  find,  for  example,  at  the  present 
time  a  dozen  Bishops  of  the  Church  of  England  most 
strenuously  supporting  the  vested  interests  of  brewers  and 
distillers,  and  opposing  the  Government  efforts  to  lessen  the 
material  curse  of  Drink.  These  gentlemen  apparently  are 
not  considering  the  ruin,  ill-health  and  moral  degradation 
of  thousands  of  living  men  and  women  and  unborn  children 
which  must  -occur  if  these  vested  interests  in  the  liquor 
traffic  are  to  continue  unabated, — their  sole  thought  is  '  prop- 
erty ' !  Can  any  of  these  shepherds  of  Christian  flocks  tell 
me  that  this  great  anxiety  about  '  property '  is  a  permitted 
canon  of  the  Christian  creed  ?  Was  it  not  Christ  who  said : 
'  One  thing  yet  thou  lackest ;  sell  all  thou  hast  and  give  to 
the  poor,  and  follow  Me '  ?  The  lives  of  men  and  women 
in  this  generation, — the  health  and  sanity  and  strength  of 
the  generation  to  come,  depend  on  the  crushing  of  the 
tyrannous  devil  of  Drink  that  holds  Great  Britain  in  its  grip, 
and  yet  certain  prelates,  professing  Christ,  do  not  hesitate 
to  array  themselves  on  the  side  of  '  interest  in  property,'  as 
if  money  or  land  could  be  matched  against  the  value  of 
one  human  soul!  And  what  sort  of  rights  are  these  in 
'  property '  that  has  been  wrested  out  of  national  vice  and 
degradation?  It  is  property  that  should  be  flung  away  in 
horror  and  fear,  with  tears  of  shame  that  it  was  ever  held 
under  such  conditions, — for  the  '  evil '  brought  upon  this 
people  by  Drink, — the  '  fruit  of  the  thoughts '  engendered 
by  Drink,  is  an  evil  so  vast  and  terrible  that  the  brain  re- 
coils from  it,  and  the  heart  grows  sick.  In  the  streets  of 
this  great  London,  this  core  of  modern  civilization,  we  are 
shamed  day  and  night  by  the  crowds  of  unhappy  degraded 
creatures,  the  miserable  victims  of  the  liquor  traffic,  who 
crawl  and  reel  and  shuffle  their  way  from  one  public-house 
to  another,  living  for  the  delirium  of  drink  alone, — in  Edin- 
burgh, in  its  very  center  thoroughfare  of  Princes  Street,  we 
may  meet  on  any  evening  groups  of  young  girls  barely  fifteen, 
staggering  along  in  companionship  with  youths  as  drunken 
as  themselves, — in  Glasgow  it  is  still  worse,  and  yet  with 
all  this  misery  visibly  increasing  around  us, — with  the 
knowledge  that  the  money  spent  by  the  nation  on  Drink 
alone  averages  one  hundred  and  sixty-six  millions  of  money 


478  HOLY     ORDERS 

a  year,  making  nearly  four  pounds  a  head  for  every  man, 
woman  and  child, — we  can  still  talk  of  protection  for  a 
Trade  that  fills  our  lunatic  asylums  and  hospitals,  and 
crams  our  workhouses  with  the  wastrels  and  waifs  of  hu- 
manity! Let  such  a  Trade  be  ruined  a  thousand  times  over 
than  that  the  nation  should  be  robbed  of  its  moral  force  and 
physical  well-being!  No  trade  can  be  called  honest  that 
makes  its  profit  from  the  degradation  of  a  people !  " 

He  paused,  and  a  great  sadness  clouded  his  features. 

"  In  my  life,"  he  said,  "  I  have  seen  the  full  meaning  of 
the  '  evil '  which  is  the  fruit  of  perverted  thoughts, — 
thoughts  that  were  poisoned  by  drink, — thoughts  that  were 
generated,  not  by  the  healthful  processes  of  nature,  but  by 
the  working  of  the  pernicious  drugs  used  in  the  manufacture 
of  pernicious  liquor, — adulterous  thoughts,  murderous 
thoughts^ — thoughts  that  finally  fruited  into  misery  and 
death.  I  have  seen  lives  ruined  by  drink, — I  have  seen 
woman's  beauty  dragged  into  the  mire  of  swinish  sensuality, 
— all  through  drink.  Drink  is  the  blot  on  our  national 
scutcheon — may  God  remove  it!  For  I  fear  Man  will  not! 
He  lacks  courage  for  the  fight;  and  many  principalities  and 
powers  are  in  league  against  his  struggling  efforts  to  free 
himself  from  the  chains  of  the  degrading  vice  that  robs 
him  of  his  self-respect.  He  is  too  content  to  remain  the 
foolish  tool  of  a  Trade.  With  his  hard  earnings  which  he 
wastes  in  drink,  he  builds  the  fortunes  of  rich  brewers  and 
distillers,  who,  by  some  curious  shortsightedness  of  state 
authority,  are  presently  landed  in  the  House  of  Lords  to 
assist  in  governing  the  country  which  they  have  helped 
to  debase.  And  our  workhouses  continue  to  be  crammed 
with  paupers,  half  of  whom  might  and  would  have  been 
respectable,  self-supporting  citizens  if  the  Drink  had  not 
fallen  upon  them  like  a  blight  and  a  curse.  The  late 
Dean  Farrar  once  put  forward  an  example  of  a  pauper  in 
the  workhouse  who  stated  that  he  was  eighty  years  of  age. 
Asked  if  he  had  ever  been  a  drunkard,  he  replied  No,  he  had 
only  been  accustomed  to  take  three  pints  of  beer  a  day. 
Calculating  on  this  basis  you  will  find  that  he,  having 
continued  that  habit  since  he  was  twenty  for  sixty  years, 
if  he  had  laid  the  money  by  at  four  per  cent.,  would  have 
had  two  thousand  one  hundred  and  seventy-two  pounds,  or 


HOLY    ORDERS  479 

nearly  one  hundred  pounds  a-year  of  his  own  for  the  rest 
of  his  life,  instead  of  going  into  the  workhouse.  But  there 
is  little  use  in  stating  these  facts,  or  pointing  the  moral 
to  adorn  the  tale.  The  nation  to-day  is  in  the  hands  of  a 
craven  Church  and  a  purchased  press.  I  say  a  craven 
Church, — I  dare  to  say  this  in  the  pulpit  of  St.  Paul's  where 
I  am  preaching  for  the  first  time  to-day,  and  where,  for  the 
very  frankness  of  my  utterance,  I  know  I  shall  never 
preach  again.  A  craven  Church! — I,  who  am  a  minister 
of  that  Church,  blush  for  its  cowardice  and  for  the  pusillani- 
mity of  many  of  its  clergy!  For,  in  the  midst  of  perhaps 
the  most  perilous  time  of  trouble  that  has  threatened  us  for 
centuries,  the  Church,  as  a  power,  does  little  or  nothing. 
Itself  is  full  of  vacillations  and  uncertainties.  It  listens  to 
this  theory  and  that  theory.  It  puts  on  garments  borrowed 
from  Rome,  and  seeks  to  make  up  for  its  lack  of  faith  by 
an  abundance  of  ritual.  It  tolerates  '  new '  theologies.  It 
revises  its  old  beliefs — puts  forward  this  dogma — suppresses 
that.  And  with  all  its  wordy  discussions,  its  contradictions 
and  arguments,  it  seems  to  forget  that  it  is  wronging  its 
one  Divine  Foundation, — Jesus  Christ,  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day  and  for  ever,  whom  we  must  follow,  whom  we  must 
obey,  if  we  would  find  the  road  to  everlasting  love  and  life. 
It  is  almost  as  if  we  crucified  Our  Lord  for  the  second  time, 
and  watched  His  Agony  with  indifference,  crying  out  '  If 
Thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  come  down  from  the  cross!  " 

He  stood  silent  for  a  brief  space, — then  he  slowly  closed 
the  Bible  which  till  now  had  remained  open  before  him. 

"  The  thoughts  that  are  spreading  in  our  nation  to-day," 
he  said,  with  stern  and  sorrowful  emphasis — "  are  not  the 
thoughts  that  build  up  national  welfare.  They  are  thoughts 
of  personal  greed,  personal  amusement,  personal  advantage, 
sensuality  and  sin.  The  old  faith,  the  old  honor,  the  old 
patriotism — these  saving  graces  no  longer  adorn  the  men  and 
women  who  by  fortune  and  accident  of  birth  are  for  a  time 
set  above  the  working  million  to  control  their  destinies.  The 
influence  of  Judaism  sways  the  throne  and  the  market- 
place alike,-— the  alien  sits  within  our  gates  and  robs  our 
native  men  of  their  rightful  work, — their  rightful  bread.  I 
have  spoken  of  a  craven  Church  and  a  purchased  press. 
These  exist;  and  between  them  the  minds  of  the  people 


480  HOLY     ORDERS 

oscillate, — but  they  trust  neither  one  nor  the  other.  They 
look  everywhere  for  truth,  stability,  courage, — but  they 
only  see  Purse  and  Party.  The  craven  Church  has  no  as- 
pirations as  from  God  to  offer  them, — only  the  dry  husks 
of  old  and  conflicting  theories  containing  no  support  in 
weakness,  no  consolation  in  sorrow.  The  purchased  press 
chiefly  lives  to  recommend  the  several  aims  of  its  several 
purchasers;  to  urge  the  particular  views  of  its  particular 
syndicate  of  Jews  and  others  upon  the  British  '  fool  public ' 
as,  by  them,  it  is  called, — the  fool  public  which  is  so 
piteously  trapped  into  spending  its  money  to  make  the  pros- 
perity of  knaves.  For  the  rest  its  columns  are  made  up 
of  *  thoughts ' — thoughts  of  which  the  evil  fruit  can  be 
already  seen  ripening  on  the  bough.  Thoughts  that  are 
morbid  and  unwholesome — thoughts  that  '  strengthen  the 
hands  of  evil  doers  that  none  doth  return  from  his  wicked- 
ness ' — thoughts  from  which  '  profaneness  is  gone  forth  into 
all  the  land.'  Thoughts  that  infect  the  brains  of  the  multi- 
tude, breeding  swarms  of  foolish  and  injurious  imaginations, 
— thoughts  which  so  far  from  ennobling  and  dignifying 
national  ideals,  tend  to  degrade  and  debase  them.  The 
power  of  the  press  is  a  power  for  which  those  who  wield 
it  will  be  answerable  to  God.  -That  they  do  not  themselves 
believe  in  God  matters  little — His  existence  is  not  destroyed 
by  their  incredulity.  The  men  who  for  money's  sake  spread 
false,  contaminating,  mean  or  scurrilous  thoughts  through 
the  masses  of  the  people  are  traitors  to  the  country  and 
should  meet  with  traitors'  punishment.  For  there  is  no  end 
to  the  '  fruit '  of  a  thought.  Its  seed  plants  itself ;  it  grows 
and  flourishes  continually.  A  great  thought  sows  other 
great  thoughts, — an  evil  thought  sows  a  spreading  crop  of 
evil.  If  the  brains  of  a  people  are  sound  and  sane,  the 
thoughts  of  a  people  will  be  sound  and  sane  likewise.  How 
earnestly  then  should  we  fight  against  the  curse  of  drink, 
which  not  only  deteriorates  the  brain,  but  finally  destroys 
it!  There  are  certain  unnameable  sins  practiced  among 
the  upper  classes  of  society  to-day  " — he  paused,  and  looked 
down  with  unflinchingly  full  gaze  upon  the  moveless  mass 
of  men  and  women  crowded  below  the  pulpit — "  I  say 
there  are  unnameable  sins  among  some  of  you  that  should 
bring  the  wrath  of  God  down  upon  you  in  destroying  fire ! 


HOLY    ORDERS  481 

Sins  of  drunkenness,  degeneration  and  vice, — sins  which  are 
the  '  fruit '  of  drunken,  vicious  and  degenerate  thought. 
Beware!  For  God  is  not  mocked!  You  may  mock  me, 
the  preacher  of  God's  Word,  to  your  heart's  content, — the 
poor  sweated  underpaid  journalist  of  Fleet  Street,  writing 
for  his  '  trust '  press  companies,  under  command,  may  dis- 
miss my  appeal  to  you  in  a  contemptuous  paragraph  on  what 
he  will  easily  term  a  '  jeremiad ' — but  I  say  to  you  again — 
Beware !  Rouse  yourselves  from  apathy  before  it  is  too  late, 
— do  something  of  yourselves — you,  the  People  of  this  noble 
land, — do  something  to  show  you  are  not  the  fools  your 
Press  takes  you  for! — that  you  are  in  the  main  brave  and 
honest, — that  you  would  rather  be  sober  than  drunken — 
strong  than  weak — that  you  will  have  your  women  pure — 
your  homes  clean — your  children  innocent!  Do  something, 
I  say,  to  protest  against  the  growing  scorn  of  the  marriage- 
tie, — the  indifference  to  motherhood — the  demoralization  of 
girlhood — the  self-degradation  of  woman  who  in  screaming 
for  a  political  vote  is  losing  her  highest  right — the  honor 
and  respect  of  man !  It  is  for  you  to  think  out  the  problems 
that  are  presented  to  you  to-day — you — the  great  People 
of  Great  Britain.  Think  well  and  deeply! — think  of  your 
Church,  your  press,  your  Government,  your  commerce,  and 
fight  out  corruption  in  each  and  all! — think  of  the  spirit 
in  which  your  country's  work  is  being  done  and  resolve 
yourselves  as  to  whether  you  approve  of  that  spirit  or  not. 
And  when  you  have  resolved,  speak  and  act  fearlessly, 
letting  both  speech  and  action  be  for  the  betterment  of 
your  nation!  For,  if  you  think  only  for  yourselves,  only 
for  your  own  convenience  and  temporary  pleasure,  only 
for  your  own  advantage  and  the  humoring  of  your  own 
desires,  the  vengeance  of  God  must  fall  upon  you, — that 
vengeance  which  is  simply  the  outcome  of  natural  law.  No 
man  is  permitted  to  live  for  himself  alone.  I  have  proved 
that  in  my  own  experience.  He  must  give  freely  of  all 
he  hath,  else  it  shall  all  be  taken  from  him !  " 
He  was  silent  a  moment, — then  continued: 
"  I  have  spoken  to  you,  my  friends,  as  perhaps  few 
preachers  in  this  pulpit  are  allowed  to  speak, — indeed  I 
think  I  may  say  that  if  the  tenor  of  my  discourse  had  been 
suspected  before  I  came  here,  I  should  have  been  politely 


482  HOLY     ORDERS 

*  suppressed.'     For  the  '  higher '  clergy,  as  some  of  them 
are  called,   are  anxious  to   demonstrate   to   the  world   the 
peculiar  '  broadness '  of  their  views  on  religion  and  morality, 
— which  '  broadness '  simply  means  free  license  to  make  of 
religion  and  morality  what  they  please.     But  I  am  not  one 
of  these  exalted  Church  diplomats.     I  only  see  the  wronged 
and   loving   Christ — and   the  straying   million    that   would 
serve  Him  faithfully  if  they  only  knew  how!     And  what 
I  have  said  to  you,  I  have  said  from  my  heart — from  my 
soul, — and  with  complete  indifference  to  consequences.     At- 
tacks will  not  hurt  me,  nor  reproaches  dismay.     For  it  is 
time  to  speak, — time  to  take  up  a  firm  stand  against  the 
gross  selfishness  and  sensuality  of  the  age.     And  it  is  time 
for  you,  the  People,  to  think  for  Yourselves — not  to  accept 
the  thoughts  proffered  to  you  by  conflicting  creeds, — not  to 
obey  the  morbid  suggestions  propounded  and  discussed  by  a 

*  sensational '  press, — but  to  think  for  your  country's  good, 
with  thoughts  that  are  high  and  proud  and  pure!     Other- 
wise,— if  you  remain  content  to  let  things  drift  as  they  are 
drifting, — if  you  allow  the  brains  of  this  and  future  genera- 
tions to  become  obscured  by  drink  and  devilment, — if  you 
give  way  to  the  inroads  of  vice,  and  join  with  the  latter-day 
degenerate  in  his  or  her  coarse  derision  of  virtue,  you  invite 
terrific  disaster  upon  yourselves,  and  upon  this  great  empire 
— disaster  more  wide  and  far-reaching  than  you  can  dream 
of  or  imagine !    For  it  is  by  God's  unalterable  Law  that  the 
sword  must  fall! — and  that  sword  is  suspended  over  us  all 
in  this  our  day  by  less  than  a  single  hair!     Remember  the 
Divine  warning : — '  Hear,  O  earth :  I  will  bring  evil  upon 
this  people,  even  the  fruit  of  their  thoughts ! ' ' 


Out  from  the  Cathedral  the  huge  congregation  poured, 
scattering  its  sections  all  over  London,  talking  with  heated 
animation  as  they  went,  some  angrily,  some  scornfully,  some 
jeeringly  and  a  few  admiringly,  but  all  more  or  less  violently 
moved  from  their  usual  comfortable  calm.  And  avoiding 
the  press  of  people  as  much  as  possible,  young  Laurence 
Everton  walked  through  the  City  streets  with  a  small, 


HOLY    ORDERS  483 

gray-haired  dapper  little  man  in  the  garb  of  a  Catholic 
priest,  no  other  than  Sebastien  Douay. 

"Ah,  my  Laurence!"  he  exclaimed — "We  shall  never 
hear  your  father  preach  again  in  London!  Such  a  sermon 
has  offended  everybody !  " 

Laurence  smiled  dreamily. 

"  Does  it  matter?  " 

"  To  him,  no ! — but  the  world " 

"  What  does  he  care  for  the  world,  except  when  it  calls 
for  his  love  and  pity?  "  said  Laurence — "  The  world  cannot 
help  him.  But  he  can  help  the  world." 

"  He  can  and  he  does," — agreed  Douay — "  But  at  a  cer- 
tain cost  to  himself.  His  Church  is  afraid  of  him." 

"Because  he  speaks  truth — I  know!"  said  Laurence. 
"  Again — does  it  matter  ?  " 

Douay  looked  up  at  the  handsome  young  man  beside  him, 
and  thought  of  a  fair  little  face  and  blue  eyes  long  ago 
hidden  in  the  dusty  darkness  of  the  grave. 

"No — perhaps  not!"  he  answered — "And  you,  Lau- 
rence, will  you  also  one  day  be  a  famous  preacher  ?  " 

Laurence  shook  his  head  decisively. 

"  Never!    I  shall  never  enter  the  Church!  " 

"Why?" 

Laurence  stopped  in  his  walk.  There  was  a  brightness 
on  his  features  as  of  some  inward  illumination. 

"Because  I  want  too  big  a  pulpit!"  he  said — "Too 
large  an  audience!  There's  no  cathedral  vast  enough  to 
hold  the  congregation  I  seek  to  draw!  My  strength  is 
limited, — but  my  ambition  is  boundless!  I  shall  be  a  writer, 
not  a  preacher.  For  when  the  people  will  not  go  to  church 
they  will  read — and  when  a  sermon  is  forgotten  and  per- 
ishes— sometimes, — only  sometimes ! — a  Book  lives !  " 


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-•    i     " 


